


The Fox and the Hound: Origins

by TK_DuVeraun



Series: SWTOR: Legacies AUs [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-05 10:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: In 4BTC, Kennex, the Hound of Meshurok went on a hunt in the jungles of the obscure, outer-rim moon Olkin II. It was supposed to be a break from the seemingly endless war between the Imps and the Pubs. It's a shame the moon's Sith governor, Tasha Hyal, won't let him take a break.---This is a gender-swap AU ofThe Fox and the Hound. Can be read alone.





	1. Worth

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to the gender-swap, there are other changes to the story to make it sensible. The problem the Sa'alles had with Fox is that he was a man, which obviously is no longer an issue. This story takes Fox back to their _original_ family, Hyal, where some other danger waits.
> 
> Additionally, this story begins in 4BTC whereas the one linked in the summary begins roughly in 14BTC. Posting will be slightly irregular compared to my normal because it's not all complete at this point.
> 
> This work can be read alone and because of all of the changes, it might actually create confusion if you read it together with Legacies because it doesn't fit into that universe.

“My Lord, I present Kennex, the Hound, from Clan Meshurok. He is the representative sent by the hunting camp,” says the Sith’s Imperial Captain. His armor is pressed and starched to the point that Kennex suspects the man could slice bread with his seams. He stands at attention next to the Sith’s empty chair.

The Sith herself, Lord Hyal the Younger, stands with her back to him. Her hair is tied in a thick, red braid and her robes are armored and functional, rather than the usual dramatic silliness Sith thought intimidated people. She was staring intently at a floor-to-ceiling computer screen displaying a map of the moon, specialist profiles, munitions details and a camera feed of the Republic landing party.

Kennex surreptitiously takes a photo of the display with the camera on his chestplate to study later. Imps have a bad habit of not sharing all of the pertinent information. He waits for the Sith to say something, but she seems engrossed in the screen and her captain continues to stand silently.

“Sith?” Kennex finally says.

She turns and it’s all Kennex can do not to flinch. The sharp, red, Sith marks on her face are the  _ Sa’alle _ marks. Every Mandalorian knows those marks so they can avoid that monster.  _ This doesn’t make any sense. Even Sa’alle would be afraid to use the Hyal name falsely.  _

“I am Lord Tasha Hyal. I take it from your sudden reticence that you’re familiar with the Sa’alle marks. Hyal is an offshoot family. Though, as you can tell from their disgraceful machinations, we surpassed their power long ago.”

“We typically don’t respond well to being Sithed,  _ my lord. _ I’d advise you to stop if you want help here on Olkin II.” Kennex watches her reaction closely. He needs to be ready to dodge an attack, but mostly he wants to know if she’s worth working with. 

Her eyes narrow, but they’re blue, not sickly yellow with Sith corruption. “If you removed your helmet, I’d have no need.”

“There are six different clans here. Convincing me just gives you the chance to sell it to the rest.”

Hyal gestures to the empty chair on Kennex’s side of the desk and then sits in her own. Her captain turns off the screen and then increases the lighting the office. He pulls out a datapad and scrolls through the contents. “By our calculations, we’ll need roughly half of the Mandalorians present to hold the moon with minimal casualties.”

“Then I hope you’re paying well,” Kennex says. “We’re not hard pressed for credits or we wouldn’t be out here on a pleasure hunt. There’s a war on.”

“This is a serious matter and will require cooperation between your people and my men. It can do without smart comments.” Hyal’s voice is clipped and hard.

“Olkin II is a colony. Aside from you and your contingent, it’s civvies. Do you really think the Pubs are going to come in and slaughter everyone? We’re not going to fight for your pride when you can fly offworld and come back in a few weeks and oust them with prejudice.”

“This isn’t about pride,” Hyal says.

“We have reason to believe the Republic would, in fact, destroy the colony if given even the slightest opportunity,” her captain explains.

“Because of the resources? I hate ‘em as much as anyone else, but that’s not really their speed, Your Lordship.” Kennex frowns under his helmet. He’s no Echani, but he can read faces nearly as well and these two believe there’s danger, if Hyal’s not Sithing him.

“It’s need to know,” Hyal says. She gestures to her captain, who then hands Kennex a second datapad. “That’s the base rate. We can negotiate specialists on a case-by-case basis.”

The rate is good. Better than anything Kennex has gotten in the last year, even with the war. “I don’t like the look of these numbers.”

“It’s simple supply and demand, Meshurok,” she says. “When there are fifty-thousand lives riding on your cooperation, the price isn’t nearly so steep. Will your people hear me?”

Kennex glances between the Sith and her offer a few times as he thinks. “No one wants to work with Sa’alle. You’ll make a bad impression.”

“Perhaps the lieutenant can liaise with them?” The Imperial says with his eyebrow quirked. Whatever meaning he’s trying to pass, the Sith seems to understand, but is lost on Kennex.

“That’ll work,” Kennex says. He’s curious about this lieutenant, but doubts they’ll tell him. “You got a mask you can wear to sell your pitch?”

\---

Kennex feels the Sith standing at his shoulder as she explains the job, but his eyes are on the  _ mando’ade. _ They’re not turned off by smooth, white mask the way they would be by the Sa’alle marks, but they’re still reluctant to sign on. The war isn’t going well for the Imps and after so many years of open conflict even Mandalorians are getting tired of the same engagements over and over.

This is the first leisure hunt in months for most of them, the first in two years for Meshurok’s warriors personally. Kennex knows that usually everyone would decide to pack up and go home, but Hyal shows them rare respect. Her phrasing makes it clear she believes them capable warriors.

“Oy, Sith. Are we gonna have to listen to you barking orders while we’re trying to do our jobs?” asks a warrior from D’narr. His armor is blindingly bright orange and easily identifiable in the crowd.

“No. Captain Eklund will be leading the sniper corps and other ranged specialists. He has a rather peculiar mode of operation, as you see often in former members of the Ascendency.” Hyal pauses for the expected chuckles. “As for close quarters, it will be one of your own. Who, precisely, depends on who signs on and their relevant and relative experience.”

“The rate’s guaranteed and it’s opt in. The Imps aren’t going to stop anyone from going home if you don’t want to join up,” Kennex says.

“Sure they won’t,” a kid wearing Tiyaar’s hammer says. “Sith have a way of making sure no one says no to them.”

_ How stupid can you get? Does he want Hyal to blast him with lightning? _ Kennex shifts his weight and prepares himself to jump in in the way if she tries anything.

He needn’t have worried. Hyal simply turns her head away and gives an audible sniff. “I have proper concerns to tend to. Time is of the essence if I want to keep this moon out of Republic hands. I won’t waste my time or my energy wrangling the unwilling.”

“Get approval from your  _ alor’e _ and message me by 0800 tomorrow before my meeting with Hyal’s strategists,” Kennex says before anyone else gets the bright idea to antagonize the Sith.


	2. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennex just wants a spot of fun before going back to the war.

Kennex leads Hyal through the camp to his tent at the far edge. It’s a small hunting piece rather than anything to command out of, but he wasn’t expecting a Pub incursion when he packed. He gestures to his rickety, collapsible couch as he goes further in to retrieve a bottle of _netra’gal._ He drops it, along with two glasses, on the crate he’s using as a table.

Hyal twists her wrist and her mask flies off her face and onto the floor with a casual stroke of Force. Her nose wrinkles when he opens the bottle and _somehow_ it makes even her Sa’alle-marked face _cute._ Despite her expression, she takes her glass and sips without so much as a grimace.

With blood running hot and muscles tense, Kennex removes his helmet. He feels her eyes trace his features. His nose, crooked from a poorly-healed break, is the only exception to his otherwise symmetrical features. He knows Imperials find his combination of black hair and green eyes attractive and smirks when he catches the way her gaze lingers.

She says nothing, simply quirks an eyebrow and raises her glass in something like a toast.

Kennex raises his own glass and says, “To beneficial arrangements.”

“Beneficial arrangements, indeed.” She finishes the Mandalorian ale before pulling out a flask and taking a sip. She caps it and casually tosses it across the small space between them. Hyal raises her eyebrow at him, saying without words that she knows the significance of him offering her a drink in his home.

And she’s returning the gesture.

Before he can think about it too much, Kennex takes a swig. He coughs at the sheer vile flavor of whatever alcohol it is. “What is this _poison_?”

“People always talk about _tihaar_ and _netra’gal_ as if they’re some pinnacle of strong, yet disgusting alcohol.”

Kennex laughs. “You Sith made that out of spite, didn’t you? Just to be the best at everything.”

Hyal winks at him and beckons to the flask, which snaps back into her hand with the Force so she can slip it back into her armored coat. “Family recipe we stole from a primitive world in true Sith fashion.”

“It’s abhorrent.”

“Turnabout's fair play.”

“Alright, Hyal. What’s so important about Olkin II? I need to know what it is I’m protecting.” Kennex leans back in his chair and though it groans under the combined weight of his armor, he’s not concerned it’ll break.

She runs two fingers along her bottom lip and stares him straight in the eye. “A full twenty-five percent of the population is Forcers.”

Kennex’s breath hisses through his teeth before he can control his reaction. “Why-”

“They’re too weak to be Sith. By Imperial law, they’d be killed _at best._ I’ve given them a place to farm or write music or talk to animals or whatever it is they do with their power.”

Kennex leans towards her. “You’re protecting them? A Hyal?”

“I am Tasha. The Hyal legacy doesn’t concern me.”

“You certainly take advantage of their reputation, _Asha._ ” He says the word with the same pointed inflection she used for the Mandalorian words earlier.

“If I must pay for it regardless, I may as well,” Tasha says. She doesn’t try to hide the surprised pleasure on her face at his knowledge of the Sith language.

“Why not leverage it to protect this place?”

“You know why. I can’t risk _loyalists_ discovering the truth of my _home._ ” The last word is said with such conviction and finality that Kennex wonders if maybe there’s something more tieing her here.

“You’re some kind of Sith, Asha.”

She rolls her eyes and leans back into the thin cushions. “Must you? Once was clever.”

Kennex laughs and feels it shake the tension out of him. “I like it.”

“I have an operation to run here, Meshurok,” she says without rancor.

“Run it in the morning,” Kennex says, the invitation leaving his lips before he even thinks it. His instinct it to take it back, to deflect the original intent with some joke, but he ignores it. He plans to find a wife soon, but soon leaves time for a round with a Sith.

Tasha’s eyes flicker yellow for an instant and then purple energy dances along her skin. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

Kennex takes her still-glowing hand in his. “I’ll take anything you can give me.”

“You should know better than to bait a Sith.”

“You should know better than to challenge a _mando’ad._ ”

\---

When Tasha moves to climb out of his bed, Kennex wraps his arm around her waist. He presses his nose into the back of her neck. “Leaving so soon?”

“Our contract starts in a few hours. I’m a professional with a colony to save.” She pulls out of his grasp and pats his shoulder before rummaging around the floor for her discarded clothing.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re _good._ The Pubs don’t stand a chance.” Kennex watches as the firm lines of her muscles are covered by her layers of robes and armor.

She pats herself down a few times and starts looking under his discarded armor pieces. After a minute of fruitless search, she puts her hands on her hips and stares down at him.

“Change your mind, Sith?”

“My knife?”

Kennex digs around in his bed until he finds it and holds the weapon out to her. It’s well-made and he’s tempted to borrow it until his armsmith can make a copy, but he knows how unlikely it is that he’ll see her again after the job is done. _But I certainly won’t forget finding it on her the first time_.

“Have the list of your people ready for me in the morning. Mardh’s recon team will have more information for me by then. We need to stay ahead of the landing party and dissuade them as soon as possible. If they make it to the city, the secret’s up and I suddenly have much larger concerns.”

“ _We_ have much larger concerns. We don’t turn our backs on good employers.”

“If the Force isn’t with us, we’ll see about that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tihaar_ and _netra'gal_ are notoriously disgusting (and strong) Mandalorian alcoholic beverages. As a reminder, this is written with the assumption that the relevant Mandalorian clans treat the language as secret.
> 
>  _asha_ \- "victory" in Sith.
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm really happy with a lot of changes that have come in this rewrite. Hopefully you find it entertaining. As another note, the planet from which the Hyal/Sa'alle family stole the alcohol recipe is actually An'ara. (Octavian/Sebastian's ancestral homeworld, as mentioned in Scoundrel Shenanigans.) There are no coincidences in the Force, afterall.


	3. Bad Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job progresses and so do relationships.

No hint of their heated tryst bleeds into Kennex’s work when morning comes. Not that Tasha gives him the chance. Like a proper Sith, she leads from her gilded office and left the day to day work to her captains and lieutenants.

Her Imperial soldiers are a strange lot. They’re frighteningly competent for Imps and their officers have clearly had leadership training. They respect each other and the chain of command and it’s honestly baffling.

The only oddity is the woman called _The Lieutenant_. Despite her moniker, The Lieutenant is clearly in charge of the operation. Her Basic is clipped and sharply Imperial, but the sharpness doesn’t extend off-duty. She spends her nights in the Mandalorian camp, listening to hunting stories and allaying any concerns the Mandalorians have about the operation.

If The Lieutenant knows about the Forcer population, she makes no mention of it. She tells the Mandalorians that the families on Olkin II are the descendents of Hyal’s ancestral retainers with just enough scorn at such a frivolous endeavour that everyone believes it. Even knowing the truth, Kennex starts to believe it.

“You’re a good liar, LT,” Kennex says. Somehow, he’d missed the joke behind the nickname, but he plays along regardless.

She tilts her head towards him, but doesn’t take her eyes off of the warriors sparring in the shoddily constructed ring. “It’s part of the job description, isn’t it?”

“Imp officer? I’d say so.”

She laughs and rubs the front of her helmet, as if scratching an itch. “Sure, Meshurok. We’ll go with that.”

Kennex wants to tell her to take it off, but the words stall in his throat. Outside of the clans, keeping her helmet on constantly probably means she has something to hide. It’s possible she’s disfigured, but in the Empire it’s far more likely she’s an alien. _We don’t care what blood runs in your veins, LT. You wouldn’t have to hide yourself with us._

But he doesn’t say anything and after a few minutes of silence, she leaves to talk to one of her men.

The sounds from the rest of the camp seem to fade as Kennex watches her back. From her gestures, he can tell that she’s giving orders. Each movement is as measured and precise as she is in combat. For whatever her real rank is, she fights on the front lines more than any Imp officer Kennex has ever dealt with and it softens his heart towards her.

 _I should really thank Tasha for that kriff. It opened me up to… Well, steal one of her people. Heh, she’ll be furious_.

“Not what you expected, eh _alor’ad_?” Ty’lk asks. The mirialan has his helmet under his arm and gestures to The Lieutenant with his free hand.

“First surprise from the Imps that actually pleased me.”

“You can say that again,” Ty’lk says. “Somethin’ funny with the locals, though.”

Kennex finally tears his eyes away and looks at his clan-brother. “Yeah? What do you mean? I haven’t gone into the city at all.”

“I popped in to get a toy for Kivia, might miss her birthday out here. Anyway, they were all staring at me the whole time.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks over his shoulder as if they’re still watching him.

“I doubt they get many Mandalorians in. We _do_ make an impression.”

“Well that’s just it. I wasn’t wearing my armor. I didn’t want to intimidate them and get on The LT’s bad side, so I went in regular clothes.” Ty’lk wrinkles his nose in distaste. “So I’m just walkin’ down the street, no armor, no weapons… Damn unsettling.”

“You _are_ green. These are Imps we’re talking about.”

“It’s not like that, though. Tons of aliens.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah, kriffin’ weird that the Hyal family hired so many. Maybe they were giving Sa’alle the two-finger salute. But yeah, damn eerie the way they stared.”

“Want me to look into it?”

“If you can stop imagining The LT out of her armor long enough to ask, sure.”

Kennex whips his hand out to cuff his friend, but Ty’lk dodges with a laugh. “Don’t be a brat or you’ll be on diaper duty for weeks.”

“You’d never.”

“Try me,” Kennex says. Once Ty’lk walks off, he turns back to where The LT had been, but she and her subordinate are both gone. _They’re all so dedicated to her and Tasha. Would she even want to join us? Of course she would. She fits in so well with us. Hell, she was in the Battle Circle last night. She wants it. She just needs a little convincing._

\---

The sound of heavy footsteps draws Kennex’s attention away from the latest report from Tasha’s Imperials. He sets the datapad on his leg and looks up.

The warrior approaching him is the kid from Tiyaar, Atonai. His armor is still muddy - probably just back from a scouting mission of his own. He gives Kennes a respectful hand signal, but nearly ruins it when he removes his helmet and scowls down. Atonai is a young rattataki with scars on his face both from Force lightning and a slave brand.

“You pulled your head out of Hyal’s legs long enough to listen to our concerns?” Atonai asks. His clan brother, an older human, comes up a few steps behind him and mouths _sorry_ , but Kennex waves him off.

“My relationship with the Sith is strictly professional,” Kennex says.

Atonai scoffs. “The whole camp heard you take her to bed.”

“ _Before_ the job. Speak your concern, or return to your post.”

“I don’t like these Imps.”

“You don’t like any Imps. Try again,” Kennex returns without hesitation. He picks up the datapad and makes a show of reading it instead of giving Atonai his attention.

“They keep coming into our camp. They’re trying to learn our secrets.” Atonai’s clan brother facepalms behind his back as the kid talks.

“We invited them. We want to build some rapport in the forces so we can be effective. They’re trying to respect our customs. I hate to break it to you, but Imps know a lot about us. Unless they start trying to reverse engineer your armor, you’re barking at the moon.”

“Look here, _Hound_ -” Atonai starts to say.

“No, You didn’t have to sign on. Either play nice with the Imps or I’ll be having a talk with Travars before we leave,” Kennex says. He doesn’t stand or even raise his voice, but the kid flinches back.

“Don’t get too big for your helmet, Hound,” Atonia snarls before turning his back on Kennex and stalking off to the other side of the tent.

“Sorry about him,” the other warrior from Tiyaar says. “But you’re really not helping your case with the way you keep making eyes at Hyal.”

“It’s not the Sith I’m making eyes at,” Kennex mutters to himself once he’s alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've already read the original ( WHY ARE YOU HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T? I MEAN, THANKS, I LOVE YOU, BUT WHY? ) you're probably banging your head on your desk at how oblivious Kennex is, but you have to look at it from his POV.


	4. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Kennex sees is red and, for once, that's not a bad thing.

A real fire flickers in the fireplace in Tasha’s office. It’s not particularly cold and the Imps certainly have a handle on climate control, so it’s purely for aesthetics. Kennex would assume it was for comfort and reassurance in anyone other than a Sith of her caliber. A particularly loud pop from the burning wood shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks back down at the datapad in his hands.

He glances over at Tasha and sees her lift one manicured eyebrow. “Tired, Meshurok? Shall we have this meeting when you’re prepared to be professional?”

Kennex chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m fine. The Lieutenant’s been keeping us busy.”

A smile teases its way across Tasha’s face before the stoic, Sith facade returns. “Did you expect anything else?”

“It’s not like you told me anything about her.”

“You’ve never heard of the Imperial Fox? The Red Lieutenant? Nothing?”

“ _She’s_ the Imperial Fox?”

Tasha laughs and tosses her heavy, red braid over her shoulder. “Were you expecting a man?”

“No,” Kennex says, though he worries his face reflects the opposite. “I just wasn’t expecting a war hero to be stationed out on some nothing colony moon.”

“Olkin II is far from nothing and you know why.”

“Even so.”

“There’s a vacancy in the admiralty. It was better, politically, to be seen as not interfering.” Tasha smirks and leans back in her chair.

“I imagine you’re interfering, regardless.”

“I was made for a singular purpose. I intend to be _very_ good at it.”

“You’re good at a lot of things,” Kennex says as memories of their tryst rise to the front of his mind, unbidden. He clears his throat and turns fully away from the fire. “Anyway, my scouts found your _jetii._ We couldn’t get clear holos for an ID either, though. They’re definitely running distortion fields over their faces. Unless he’s a really good actor, one of them is a padawan.”

“That was my people’s assessment, as well. Subservient to the other, uncomfortable giving commands, slow to respond to ‘Master Jedi.’ It’s a fairly certain thing. I don’t care for the implications brought on by hiding their identities, however.”

“The Pubs are trying to hide who’s doing their dirty work? Color me shocked,” Kennex says with as much sarcasm as he can muster. “What do you want us to do with them?”

“Be on guard and don’t engage until I can confirm their identities. Jedi are capable of the same rituals as Sith. They just call them by different names and use them under the guise of the greater good.”

“We’ll keep our eyes open. No need to worry about this _Asha_.”

Tasha snorts and makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Don’t think you’re clever. I’m sure you have work to do.”

\---

The Lieutenant laughs every time he calls her Fox and the sound warms Kennex’s blood even more than thinking about Tasha’s knife. She does a fair amount of scouting herself and spends far too much time fighting on the front lines with her vibrosword considering her rank. When night falls, she spars in the ring against the Mandalorians. Even Atonai starts to grudgingly respect her for her patchwork style of swordwork that could easily come from any clan. The only strange element is the inclusion of a few Echani techniques physically impossible for most races to use. It takes Kennex a week to even recognize them.

It gives him new elements to include in his mental image of The Lieutenant. Skin as pale as moonlight and white-irises in an otherwise human face. He pictures her hair dyed the blood-red color the Sith love so much to earn her the title of the Red Lieutenant.

The way she relaxes in the Mandalorian camp and engages with all of the warriors gives Kennex hope that despite her rank and status in the Empire he’ll be able to bring her into the clans. Even if just as his spouse while she continues to lead the Empire’s soldiers against the Republic.

While walking with Tasha through the gates and into the capital city, he asks, “How many sanctions would you ask of Mandalore if I poached some of your people?”

The Sith glances at him out of the corner of her eye as they walk side by side. “None. You’re welcome to try to woo them, but my people won’t turn their backs on me. And should any be interested in your offer, you’ll find them not worth your time.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“See for yourself,” Tasha says. Despite the Sa’alle marks on her face and the obvious Sith robes she wears, everyone is staring at the Sith with bright smiles on their faces. As they walk towards Tasha’s office in the city, citizens approach and press small gifts and sincere thanks on the Sith. She says all of the right words and tries to stress how unnecessary the offerings are, but the people are insistent.

By the time they make it inside, Kennex is holding an armful of candies and plush toys like some kind of pack animal. Tasha dumps her own armfuls of flowers into a wicker basket by the entrance and gestures for Kennex to drop his own burdens in the bins nearby. An Imperial steward nearby is clearly stifling a chuckle as Tasha uses the Force to remove the pollen from her robes in a big, yellow cloud.

“I take it that’s a regular occurance,” Kennex says, his own amusement poorly hidden under his helmet. During the walk, he could see under her facade of graceful acceptance to how uncomfortable she was with all of the exuberant attention.

The Sith is at home on the battlefield, not the awards’ stage and Kennex knows that in her place he’d struggle to appear as collected as she was. He bites the inside of his cheek and tears his gaze away from her. He’s lucky he has The Lieutenant to focus his attention on most of the time because without her he’s worried his lust for Tasha might turn to infatuation.

“There’s a reason The Lieutenant handles most of my business,” Tasha says as they enter the lift.

“She’s prettier?” Kennex asks.

Tasha slaps his chest, her gauntlet smacking the armor with a loud crack. “Bite your tongue, Meshurok.”

“How about I let you handle that?”

“Either give me your report or go back to your camp.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really have to look at this from Kennex's point of view. He's missing the forest for the trees because he's so wrapped up in his infatuation.
> 
> This chapter also featured some wanking about Force theory and how much I loathe the Jedi, haha. I was out drinking with some friends last night (and watching the Vikings get destroyed, rip) and there was a lot of Force theory wanking going on as we discussed TLJ.


	5. Whirling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennex sees what he's been missing. And misses what he was seeing.

Mistakes aren’t a part of Kennex’s life. Mistakes get people killed and there are a lot of people Kennex is responsible for. But walking in on Ty’lk’s conversation with his wife is a massive mistake that Kennex regrets down to his socks. He didn’t eavesdrop on anything sexual, no, far worse, he heard them lovingly going over the boring mundane details of their respective missions and now Kennex has a heart-shaped, burning ache in his chest that he can’t deal with.

Well, he _can,_ but he really shouldn’t. He circles the camp perimeter twice before deciding the only way to get a hold on his swirling emotions is to spar himself into exhaustion. He’ll regret it in the morning, but better than that saying something he’ll regret.

 _Or both,_ he thinks as he reaches the informal battle circle and sees The Lieutenant leaning against the ramshackle railing. She turns at his approach and nods at him and that little gesture is enough to tear through Kennex’s fragile sliver of restraint. He takes her by the arm and says, “Let’s dance.”

“Far be it from me to stop you from getting the tar beat up,” she says, drawing her vibrosword.

The ring clears for them and it feels like a scene out of some ridiculous, trashy “Mandalorian” romance holo, but Kennex is going to let it play out. They’ll trade blows to the cheers of his _vod_ until they decide they’re evenly matched. They’ll clap hands in the center of the ring and then rush off somewhere private. They won’t be able to get as far as Kennex’s tent before they’re tearing each other out of their armor. They’ll kriff behind the armory and then Kennex will drag her back to his tent where they’ll keep each other awake until they have to be on duty tomorrow morning.

Silence snaps Kennex back to reality. The Lieutenant has lowered her vibrosword and has one hand held up, signalling the silence. “The Jedi are coming.”

“Ranged comms just went out, too,” Ty’lk says, rushing to The Lieutenant.

The Imperial Fox scans the gathered warriors for a moment before pointing to one of her own men. “Corporal Dawa, get back to base ASAP and have Captain Mardh bring all of his people. Tell him it’s the Jedi.”

The Imp fires off a sharp salute before sprinting southward out of the camp, but The Lieutenant doesn’t watch him. She’s pointing to Ty’lk. “Take the Hound and two men from D’narr. North-by-Northwest. They’re alone. Expect mind tricks.” She jerks her arm over until she pointing to Atonai. “You, Tiyaar, with me.”

Kennex closes the gap between them. “Fox, what-”

“They split up. Go!” She steps away from him and gestures to the camp as a whole. “The rest of you, prepare yourselves, but I want it _loud_. I want them to hear you from the city. Sound drunk, angry, I don’t care, just scramble up the Jedi’s senses.”

Before he can protest again, she’s gone, Atonai at her heels.

Kennex signals to the two warriors from D’narr and leaves the camp, expecting Ty’lk to follow at his heels. Through comms, he instructs the _vod_ from D’narr, “Silence your external mics. If they’re going to use compulsion on us, removing the audio component will help you resist it.”

_Asha should be here to deal with these Jedi. What are they going to do if she doesn’t show up soon? That’s why they came here in the middle of the night. To get us without our Sith._

As The Lieutenant had said, they find the Jedi a single kilometer into the forest. Even the distortion field can’t hide the fact that this Jedi is the padawan. He’s a gangly young man with ill-fitting, plain robes. He’s practically shaking in fear, even as he takes a deep breath and moves into a meditative stance. He takes a deep breath and and waves his hand. “You’re all very tired. Yes, this is a wonderful place to lay down and take a nap.”

Kennex hears a clanking of armor of Ty’lk lowers himself to the forest floor and one of the warriors from D’narr tries to shake sense into him. But he pays his _vod_ little mind. Instead he draws his blaster pistol and shoots at the brat’s head.

The padawan yelps and jumps to the side, dodging the shot, but completely losing his calm. He draws his lightsaber, but the green blade shakes with nerves.

Kennex starts to close the distance between them. He fires a volley of shots, but even with his predictive aim, the kid manages to avoid injury. The misses don’t bother Kennex; even if he’s just a kid, the padawan is still a Forcer. Kennex activates his flamethrower, catching the kid’s sleeve and charring the flesh underneath.

To his credit, the kid doesn’t scream out his pain. Instead, he swings his saber in a clumsy arc towards where Kennex _was_ rather than where the Mandalorian is going to be when the swing follows through. When the Jedi turns to keep up the attack, Ty’lk strikes at him from behind. Despite dodging, there’s a loud _crack_ in the forest as his saber-arm breaks. He drops his weapon even as one of D’narr’s warriors twists his good arm behind his back.

“Please, you want to let me go!” The padawan cries. His panicked shout doesn’t have even a hint of compulsion, if Ty’lk’s unmoving figure is anything to judge by.

Kennex closes the gap and tilts the kid’s head up with the barrel of his pistol under his chin. He looks the kid in the eye, though the padawan has only a black t-visor to stare into. “We’re not going to ignore a flank.” He pulls back his arm and whacks his pistol across the kid’s face, careful to hit only his nose.

“Don’t kill me! I’ll do anything.” The kid’s eyes water from the pain in his arm and newly broken nose. “Look, my master is coming at your camp from the West. He’s Master Nicabre. He can mindtrick anyone. Even Sith. He plans to make you all kill each other.”

Kennex gives D’narr the signal and the other warrior tranqs the kid before throwing his limp body over his shoulder. “Ugh. He wet himself. I’m gonna have to sanitize my armor twice now.”

“Take him back to the camp and hand him over to the Imps when they show up.” Kennex says. He nods to Ty’lk. “Come on, let’s go check on The Lieutenant.”

Ty’lk snorts audibly from his helmet, but follows Kennex to the West regardless. “Nicabre or not, I’m sure Hyal’s fine. She’s not called the Red Lieutenant from leaving people’s blood inside their bodies.”

Kennex freezes mid-step and slowly turns his head to Ty’lk. “...What did you just say?”

“Hyal’s the Red Lieutenant?” Ty’lk asks, confusion evident in his voice.

“Then who’s _The_ Lieutenant?”

“...Also Hyal? Sith Lieutenant General Hyal? Imperial Fox? Did you really _not know?_ Have you been under a rock?”

Kennex feels numb, like a leaf adrift on the wind. No, one swirling in a whirlpool, about to drown. He releases his clan brother’s shoulders and sprints westward. Nothing else moves in the wood as he crashes through the underbrush. It feels as if time is frozen, giving his mind an eternity to playout horrific scenes. Hyal, beautiful and terrible in her armored robes and blood-red saber, spinning and weaving through the Mandalorian forces, cutting down any within her reach.

But that’s not all. His mind supplies a clear image of The Lieutenant, backed into a corner with her decorated armor cracked and broken. He can see one of her blue eyes through the broken helmet as she cowers before a vibrosword rips through the remnants of her defenses.

Later, too much later, he breaks through the trees into a small glade lined with trees charred from lightsaber blades. Tasha has her back to him, her blood-red lightsaber in her hand, reflecting bright light against her Imperial armor. The blade hums in the humid, night air over the Jedi’s corpse. She turns perfectly in place, the movements stiff and wooden… Almost as if she’s not under her own control.

Fear grips Kennex’s heart as he watches her raise her free hand in a familiar gesture of casting sorcery.

“Get down,” Tasha croaks, her voice barely more than a weak gasp.

Kennex doesn’t have time to react before the invisible hand of her Force throws him to the ground. Before he can fully comprehend the situation, the sharp blast of a Mandalorian’s modified rifle crashes through the air.

Tasha’s body rocks back from the impact of the blast, but she somehow stays on her feet. Her saber flicks off and drops from her numb fingers. In the back of his mind, Kennex can hear Ty’lk incapacitating Atonai Tiyaar, but it doesn’t register. It can’t. Not when all he can see are the trees _through_ the hole in Tasha’s chest.

Her hands weakly pat the edges of the wound before it begins emitting a glowing, purple smoke and she goes limp. Kennex lunges forward and up to catch her before her body hits the ground. Hysteria screams through his blood, but he pushes it back. He’s deaf to anything except the blood pounding in his ears as he gently scoops Asha up into his arms.

He’s thankful for the arcane smoke obscuring her wound because he’s not sure if he could keep his feet moving if he could see _through_ her body to the forest floor below. She’s cradled against him, but Kennex feels like she’s being ripped away. Like she’s the one being dragged down to drown at the bottom of the whirlpool. _You’ll live, Asha. Your life won’t fail. Not like this._

When he reaches the camp, it takes every ounce of his will to lay her gently on the Imperial stretcher. He wants to carry her the entire way. Wants to stay by her side until she’s healed and wakes.

But she’s _their_ commander. _Their_ Sith. And even reminding himself of her true nature does nothing to ease the wound in his heart. Even if his _vod_ no longer send away their Sensitive children, they wouldn’t accept a Sith general into the clan. Kennex watches the Imps until they disappear in the distance, taking a part of him with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite version of this scene. I am rather partial to a Nicabre who taunts Fox with his demented sister's murder.


	6. Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennex needs some kind of closure.

Atonai bangs his fist on the force field that keeps him in the cell. “You can’t just keep me locked up in here, Meshurok. You have no right!”

“It was a unanimous decision to make me captain of this operation and you might have _murdered_ our employer,” Kennex says. His voice is empty and nearly monotone as he sits at his desk. He continues to sign off on the individual contracts for every warrior so they can get paid.

“The kriffing _jetii_ mindtricked me! What was I supposed to do?”

“Did he really? Because according to the padawan, the mindtrick wouldn’t wear off so fast.”

“And you believe that brat over me?” Atonai shouts.

“You hate Sith more than anything else. I wouldn’t be surprised if you started taking shots at her as soon as she drew her saber.” Kennex feels the fury in his chest and hates that it’s directed towards one of his _vod._

“I have _honor._ If I wasn’t going to help her, I would have stayed behind and let her fight the kriffer alone. She _earned_ my respect and you’re losing it.” Atonai growls impotently and sits on the creaky stool. “Use the head on your shoulders. What kind of Sith takes a rifle shot at two meters?”

“The _dead_ kind,” Kennex snarls.

“The _distracted_ kind. She was breaking the compulsion on me.”

Kennex deactivates the datapad and stands. “We’ll see if she lives and what the Imps want with you.”

“I’m your _brother,_ Kennex. She’s just some Sith bitch you kriffed once.”

Kennex ignores the words and leaves the tent. He’s already called the kid’s _alor_ and he agreed with Kennex’s decision. Nevertheless, Kennex feels torn. He was wrong to get so attached to The Lieutenant. To the Sith. He squeezes his eyes closed for a second and takes a deep breath.

He’d been as blind as some cave creature not to realize Asha _was_ the Imperial Fox. If he’d done the bare minimum of looking her up, either her, he would have read about Sith Lieutenant General Hyal. Maybe he ignored the signs on purpose. His chest aches with how much he yearns for her, even knowing the truth.

There was a chance he could bring The Lieutenant back as his partner, whereas a Sith, especially one as powerful as Asha, could never walk that road with him. _If she’s even still alive. Mardh hasn’t said anything except to request the finished contracts. Will they even tell me anything? I’m just some mercenary captain, why would they reveal their weakness? That wound didn’t kill her immediately, but if survives, she’ll be months in recovery, at least._

\---

The Imps pay their dues without ceremony and send word that as far as they’re concerned, Atonai is clear of guilt. Though it feels wrong and right and everything in between, Kennex releases the young Mandalorian without comment.

As the days pass, the Mandalorian camp clears out until only Kennex is left. Ty’lk had left as early as possible to reunite with his wife and daughter after the unexpected campaign. Ten days after the nighttime assault, Captain Mardh appears at his tent. The Imperial’s expression is somber, but not lined with grief. “You’re still here. Her Lordship was afraid of this.”

“She’s alive? Awake?” Kennex is so desperate he doesn’t even care that his neediness is clear in his voice.

“She is. Come with me.” The captain leads him to a speeder with blacked out windows that drives them into the city. “The Padawan revealed their plans. Nicabre had some grudge against Sa’alle and was willing to take it out on a distant cousin with Sybil out of his grasp. They didn’t know about the… people here.”

“That’s good. I know she was worried about them.”

“Not unduly. Our situation here is precarious.”

Kennex nods and mentally scrambles for something to say, but there’s only one thing that comes to his lips. “How is she?”

Mardh sighs and his expression is grim. “You’ll see soon enough. All I’ll say for now is… My Lord, she- She burns hot. Don’t be left freezing when the light goes out. For her sake.”

The words freeze enough on their own. Kennex swallows down his questions because he suspects receiving any further details will make the situation worse, not better. He nods and stays silent for the rest of the ride.

The speeder stops outside of a demure manor. Flowers and gifts all but block the gate. Mardh starts packing the items into the speeder as Kennex steps out. “Don’t let _this_ trouble you. It happens every time Her Lordship is on world.”

Kennex nods without looking at the captain and walks up to the door. A droid opens it as he approaches and points to the grand staircase. A second droid at the top of the stairs opens a fancy door. Kennex leaves his helmet with it and steps lightly inside, trying not to make too much noise. His effort is wasted.

Tasha is awake and standing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her red hair is in a loose plait down her back and instead of Sith garb, she’s wearing a silk dressing gown over bandages that wrap around her chest from waist to armpit. She glances at him over her shoulder. “Kennex,” she says, using his name for the first time.

“Asha,” he says. He gently rests his hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be up.”

She turns back to the window. “You shouldn’t still be here.”

“I wasn’t going to leave without knowing if my employer was dead or alive.”

“That’s not why you’re here,” she says. Her voice is harsh, edged with something like anger. The muscles in her jaw are visibly tight.

Kennex pulls on her shoulder, lightly, so lightly, until she turns to face him. “You’re a strong and honorable warrior. I’m not ashamed of wanting you.”

“I am a _Sith_.”

“We don’t send our children away for having a gift,” Kennex replies.

Tasha lets out a loud, annoyed sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t have what you want because I’m not real.”

“Of course you’re-”

“No,” she interrupts. “My name begins with _tash_ because I _am_ a lie. I’m a pet general, brought out of the toybox when it’s needed and cast aside when it’s not.”

Kennex reaches out to brush a lock of hair out of her face, but she moves away from his hand. “I don’t understand. How can you not be real?”

Tasha shakes her head and opens the dressing gown. She grabs the bottom of the bandages and tears them off in a flash of purple Force energy. “I’m a pawn, not a person.”

The skin on her chest is smooth and free of any scar or blemish. Kennex places a shaking hand just under her breast, where the hole had been straight through her. When she doesn’t flinch in pain or at the cold metal of his gauntlet, he moves his fingers across each rib and finds all of them whole.

“But this is impossible,” Kennex says. Even as the words leave his mouth, he remembers carrying her through the trees. Remembers the air thick with Force energy and purple smoke leaving the wound.

“And yet, here it is.” Tasha puts her hand over his and finally meets his gaze. Her eyes are so brightly yellow with Sith corruption, they nearly glow.

“Come back with me. We’ll-”

“Accept what little we can have… Or leave now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been bullying some people into reading this. This note is for you.
> 
> Mandalorians by tradition do not accept Force users. The original reason was purely practical: untrained Force users are dangerous and training to use the Force often means training with it to the exclusion of all else, which is incompatible with Mandalorian life. Additionally, since Mandalorian armor is Force resistant (blah blah cortosis weave blah blah) it can weaken its use anyway, making it not a particularly viable skill.
> 
> However, at one point some "Mandalorian" got it into his head that Force-wielding Mandalorians would be _unstoppable_ and then went about it in the worse way possible with "breeding projects" and experiments on children, which you hopefully can guess are anathema on the surface it. His name is the literal worst curse in the Mandalorian language and he was excommunicated and no longer considered having ever been Mandalorian.
> 
> Nevertheless, "no Forcers" is not explicitly stated in the 6 tenets of Mandalorian life and Kennex refuses to send away children weak in the Force for reasons that will come up later. (In addition to the obvious ones of "I'm not going to break up families.")
> 
> Okay, back in the land of no one cares... I use the WYSIWYG editor for importing chapters and it fucking _hates_ the way I italicize. If punctuation next to an italicized letter _isn't_ also italicized, it adds a space. But not initially on the wysiwyg, the post preview comes out fine, but when I look at the chapter, it's like:
> 
> " _You don't even know how spacing works._ "
> 
> So I have to manually go back in and edit it every. single. time. And since a lot of dialogue, you know, the stuff with punctuation on both ends, begins or ends with, say, an endearment in another language that's therefore italicized, it drives me crazy. (As you can see in the earlier stories... I didn't bother fixing it.)


	7. Thoroughness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennex wonders if maybe he should have left out the part about kriffing the employer when he made his report.

Kennex watches Tasha sleep, his mind still grappling with what he’d seen the day before. The shot had hit vital organs. He’s seen injuries like that before and knows they are often fatal, especially given how long it took to get her to medical help. Yet, even knowing she’d been shot, he can’t pick out the spot on her body, now. There’s not so much as a scratch or tiny scar that even the most advanced medical droid would have left behind.

The Force… it’ so powerful. And terrible. He shivers slightly as he thinks of the inhuman, unnatural yellow in her eyes. Tasha said she was a weapon, taken out of the box and pointed at the enemy. He can see why she feels that way, especially since he suspects she has no control over the unnatural healing that saved her.

_ Accept what little we can have, or leave…  _ Well, he hadn’t left. Maybe he should’ve. Gone back to the clan and a normal, full life as a Mandalorian instead of clinging desperately to a shred of something with this outsider. 

The obstacles had already been nearly insurmountable. Sith didn’t just leave their order to marry Mandalorians, and clans just didn’t accept full-fledged Force-users. Even if both those impossible conditions were met, the Empire wouldn’t let the insult of their Sith General leaving pass without response--one that would be fatal to everyone in the clan. Tasha is too powerful and too important for it to be otherwise. 

No, it will never work. They are from two different galaxies, passing each other as they move towards opposite ends. He has an entire clan to think of. He should be back there now, not whittling time away on this impossible dream. 

Just being here is selfish and stupid, he tells himself, not for the first time. But Kennex can’t bear to tear himself away. He tilts his head down until his forehead touches the top of her head. She sleeps curled against him, as if he can protect her from whatever comes. It paints a strange picture, with her reputation and how powerful she is.

_ Void, _ but he wishes he could shield her.

\---

Tasha offers to hire all of Clan Meshurok on retainer before Kennex even makes it back to the  _ yaim. _ Probably before her bed was even cold, which Kennex would know if he was brave enough to check the timestamps on her messages to the  _ alor. _ As it is, he’s weathering the old man’s stare from the command tent in the center of the camp.

Kennex’s neck is visibly bruised from Tasha’s mouth, but he does nothing to hide it. His expression is serious and his armor is properly repaired and polished from the time he spent waiting to see her after the op.

“So…” Goran begins. He tosses the datapad across the desk. “Ty’lk gave me his report. It was rather complete.”

“So was mine,” Kennex says. 

“Indeed. He was kind enough not to mention you thought the Red Lieutenant was a separate person, but seemingly not much else.” The old man grimaces and looks pointedly at Kennex’s bruised neckline. “So what is it you left out?”

“That place is a secret Forcer colony.”

Goran’s face ages ten years in an instant. He sighs and rubs his temples, resting both elbows on the desk, as if it can help him hold up the weight of his exhaustion. “What is it that makes treason so attractive to you?”

“We’re not Imps,  _ buir. _ I’m not giving up any more  _ ade _ to the slaughter.” He points at Goran. “You’ve regretted giving Kajir to the  _ jetii _ since the day they took him.”

“He was too strong to go untrained,” Goran says. “Ty’lk’s girl isn’t charming animals or knocking holes in doors. We can hide  _ her. _ ”

“And if Kajir was a brat now, we could send him  _ there _ for training and he’d still have his home here. Maybe he’d still be unsuitable for our life, but he wouldn’t be gone.”

Goran sighs and seems to wilt in his armor. “I didn’t realize you missed him that much.”

“He was my brother before you were my father.” Kennex rubs his forehead. “Keeping our Sensitive kids was never going to work long term without a powerful Forcer to train them and keep them safe from the Imps.”

“If it seems too good to be true, it usually is. Especially with Sith.”

Kennex drops his gaze to the datapad, though he doesn’t read any of the text. His hands clench into fists and he fights the roiling emotions. “Tasha herself is living on borrowed time, but her people  _ there _ will still help us.”

Goran looks up, critical skepticism clear in the crook of his eyebrow. He trusts Kennex’s judgement, but he still does his due diligence. “Did she tell you that?”

“Not directly. She probably can’t even admit it to herself.” Kennex swallows the lump in his throat. “But we all know what happens to the toy when the Sith throws it out of the pram.”

“The way the wind’s blowing, she’s going to be the Red  _ General _ soon. Now you’re telling me there’s some Sith hiding in the shadows to gut her when the time is right?”

“There’s always a bigger fish,  _ buir. _ And if no one else, there’s always the emperor.” Kennex looks off to the side, unable to meet Goran’s eyes. It’s reasonable to be sad a lover is in danger; what’s unreasonable is  _ how _ affected he is.

“You shouldn’t keep kriffing her,” Goran says, though there’s no malice and little conviction in his words.

“I have plenty of time to find a spouse once she’s gone.”

Goran sighs and gestures to the datapad. “The rate is good. The work seems good. Any reason I should turn her down?”

Kennex shrugs, eyes still lowered. “She has the Sa’alle marks on her face.”

“Hyal’s an offshoot family. You really  _ didn’t _ do any research on her, did you?” Goran chuckles.

“I know that  _ now. _ But we can’t count on everyone knowing that. Some people won’t be happy,” Kennex says.

“Good. You need practice dealing with contention. You’ll be  _ alor _ soon. Maybe too soon, with the way the war is going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clan leader _isn't_ a hereditary position, but obviously the current clan leader would their kids, biological and adopted, how to be good warriors by example and with lessons about their life. For the clans I write (see my many author notes about Mandalorians and No True Scotsman), ranks all but do not exist. There is the clan leader and there is everyone else. During missions, jobs, hunts, someone will be in charge, but there's rarely a very strictly defined chain of command with multiple levels. If something is done against orders, the "offender" is given the benefit of the doubt because they all trust each other to know their own business.
> 
> _ver'alor_ is a title that's basically "heir apparent" so if something happens to the current leader, they're in charge until further notice. And _alor'ad_ as mentioned before means, literally, child of the leader, but is more commonly used as something like "captain." That's about as deep as ranks get and believe you me, if a clan was unhappy with the current leadership, there would be a change.


	8. Mesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Eventually.

Working for a Sith is tricky business. Mandalorians usually have to deal with shoddy information and worse rations while still getting blamed for everything that goes wrong. Working for Tasha isn’t like that and Meshurok’s warriors are quickly won over. Any hesitation caused by the marks on her face is smoothed over by the heavy armor she wears. Her medals and rank are clearly engraved on the cuirass, another sign Kennex missed about her true identity back on Olkin II, but they’re also painted over by the same sharp red of her standard.

Kennex feels a pang in his chest every time he sees the stylized silhouette of a fox on a field of blood red and his aching heart isn’t helped by how distasteful Tasha seems to find it. One night, when Tasha is sitting up in bed reading through reports from the day’s operations, Kennex tugs on her braid to get her attention.

She glances down at him, her eyes thankfully back to their soft blue color, and smirks. “I’m not going to tire you out anymore. You have a field engagement tomorrow.”

“Don’t tempt me. No, it’s about your sigil.”

Tasha goes back to her datapad and shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not going to switch to the Hyal one, no matter how illustrious it is. Ivan already fought and lost that battle and he’s much better at debate than you.”

“That’s not it. Well, not exactly. You obviously hate it. I could draw you a new one. A fox you actually like the look of.” He nudges her arm with his head and gestures around her quarters where his sketches are pinned and clipped all over. Most of them are drawings of her, Kennex trying to immortalise her while he has the chance. But over their weeks together, he’d realized she kept the ones of animals close at hand and always had one or two affixed to the back of her datapads.

With a snort, Tasha lightly strokes his head as if he’s a particularly pleasing pet. “How observant of you. Thank you, but no. That’s another fight I had with Ivan; simply one I lost.”

Kennex shuffles up in her bed until he’s sitting next to her. “Is that one significant?”

Tasha frowns at her work. “No. It’s just not cute.”

“It’s just not cute,” Kennex repeats, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Tasha says. She turns slightly away from him.

“Not  _ cute _ ?” Kennex says again, incredulous.

“Don’t you start with me, Meshurok.”

Kennex laughs and throws his arms around her, pulling Tasha against his chest, even though she’s still stubbornly scowling. “You are one of the most feared Sith in the Empire and you don’t like your standard because it’s not  _ cute. _ Oh, but you’re a wonder, Asha.” He kisses her cheek even as she elbows him in the chest.

\---

One night, after successfully stifling a “rebellion” that to no one’s surprise turned out to be the work of the Republic, Tasha sits next to Kennex on a half-rotted log before the roaring bonfire in the center of the Mandalorian camp. She’s wearing The Imperial Fox’s armor, but her helmet is sitting next to Kennex’s, off to the side. Her long braid is coiled around her neck like a scarf and her eyes glow brightly in the firelight.

Kennex resists the urge to stroke her cheek and kiss her breathless by forcing his eyes back down at the sketch in his lap. He’s scratching the thick paper with a charred stick from the fire. It started out as a simple Mandalorian standing at the edge of a cliff looking very noble and dramatic, but the longer he sat there with Tasha, the more hunting dogs he added at the warrior’s feet until he gave in to her suggestion and starting adding the lines of a fluffy puppy in the warrior’s arms.

“I’ve been wondering something,” Tasha says. Her voice is low and warmer than the fire before them. None of the warriors are paying them any mind.

“Hmm, yes?”

“Not to borrow tomorrow’s sorrows-” She pauses and grimaces at her own word choice. “Regardless, when you speak of… later, you’re very careful to use the word ‘spouse.’”

Kennex’s breath catches in his chest and he takes a moment to respond. “Well, we do tend to pair up. Helps with the emotional-”

Tasha touches the back of his neck to interrupt him. “No, I understand. It just seemed strange to me that you’d use that word when you mean… wife.”

_ I could never have a wife that isn’t you, Asha, _ Kennex thinks. He knows better than to look at her. If he did, his thoughts would spew out of his mouth and she always pulls away when he  _ says _ anything about the depth of their relationship, their actions be damned. After taking a deep breath, he says, “But I do mean spouse. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you what’s appealing about biological males.”

Tasha glances around the fire and leans in closer, even though no one’s looking at them. “But I thought Mandalorians weren’t allowed to be gay?”

Kennex snaps the charcoal in surprise. The laugh that forces its way out of his mouth is so unexpected that he starts coughing. “Where in the galaxy did you get a ridiculous idea like  _ that _ ?”

“It’s right there in the  _ resol’nare _ . Raise your kids Mandalorian,” Tasha says. Despite the conviction in her words, her cheeks are flushed from more than the fire’s warmth.

“I know the Empire’s full of crazy ideas, but  _ we _ would never hold to such an idea. At least one fifth of Mandalorian couples are incapable of having biological children. And even those that can adopt more often than not.”

“It’s not as if I can  _ see _ that when everyone’s in armor all of the time.”

Her defensive tone breaks Kennex’s resolve and leans in and kisses her. Their lips move together softly, but there’s no doubt they’ll retreat to his tent soon. Before any of his brothers can start hooting encouragement, Kennex pulls back. 

“It’s not unheard of for a Mandalorian to fall in love without ever having seen their partner’s face.” It’s as close to a confession as Kennex has ever dared giving her.

Tasha stares into his eyes as if there’s nothing else to see. She brushes her fingers across his cheek and says only, “We live in such different galaxies.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I've been both rather busy and horrifically ill, so I'm a bit behind on the writing, but Chapter 12 is complete, so we're getting there.
> 
> _resol'nare_ \- the six tenets of Mandalorian life.
> 
> Fox being overly attached to cute things was invented as a minor detail in Fox & the Hound, but it was so fitting that I carried it back over and it really adds a lot of humanity, for lack of a better word.
> 
> Kennex invests a lot more time to his drawing than Carina mostly because he's been aware the entire time that Asha is dying and has wanted to preserve as many memories of/with her as possible. And he also has significantly more time with Fox than Carina did, so where Carina had to get all of Fox that she could in such a short time, Kennex has the time to memorialize Fox.


	9. Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of generals and Sith things."_

Even after a year together, Kennex’s heartrate spikes and a jolt of excitement shoots through him every time Tasha comes to Meshurok’s  _ yaim. _ His rifle maintenance is abandoned in favor of meeting her at the gate. But the warmth is sapped out of his blood when he sees her.

Tasha is dressed in intricate, _ delicate _ Sith robes with layers of silk and threaded through with gold embroidery. The robe trails on the ground behind her as she walks towards him. Her face is accented with makeup that makes her Sa’alle marks clearer and not even her hair is spared from the opulence of her appearance. Though it’s still pulled back in a braid, the plait is made of up smaller braids and strung with golden bangles and crystal beads.

“Asha.” The name leaves his lips like a plea, though he’s not sure what he’s asking.

She stares at him for a moment, her eyes cold, but at least still blue. “I’m here to speak with your clan leader.”

Kennex is left frozen and dumb for several seconds before he sees that two heavily armored Imperial soldiers are standing a step behind her. Their armor marks them as highly ranked Special Forces and they are visibly surveying the area for threats. Kennex’s heart squeezes in his chest and he nods at Tasha. “Of course. Right this way, My Lord.”

In those clothes, with those guards, Tasha walks so smoothly it looks like she’s gliding. Her head is tilted up just so and her face is cold and uninterested in the clan’s activities where she would usually call out greetings and questions to familiar faces.

Goran stands when Kennex brings her into the command tent. If he’s surprised, the old Mandalorian doesn’t show it on his face. “My Lord. Welcome.”

Tasha raises her right hand and it’s bare. Her nails are sharp and painted the same blood red as her standard. She gestures to her guards without looking at them. “You’re dismissed.”

Kennex swallows the lump in his throat and seals the entrance behind the Imps, activating the noise canceller for good measure. He looks back at his lover and his father, but neither have moved. Tasha’s hand is even still in the air.

After an eternity, Goran speaks. “I take it congratulations are in order?”

Tasha lowers her hand and nods. The ice falls off her face and takes the tension out of her stance with it. “Yes. We knew this time would come. Lord Hyal the Elder had this planned since before my creation.”

“Congratulations, Lord General Hyal,” Goran says, as if Tasha didn’t just say something horrible.

Kennex steps forward and reaches for her hand, which meets his halfway, though she doesn’t look away from his father.

She squeezes his fingers when she speaks. “Thank you, Goran. Unfortunately, it’s unseemly for someone of my rank to have a clan on personal retainer.”

Goran scoffs and shakes his head. “That’s stupid. Sith killing each other is a national sport, they can’t expect you to trust those rust buckets out there.”

“I’m expected to be strong enough to fend for myself,” Tasha says. She tugs on Kennex’s hand until he standing nearly on top of her robe’s fancy train. “And I am. I never hired you for personal protection. It was always for my side projects. Projects I no longer have time for. Instead I’ll be stuck attending meetings and galas.”

“We’ll miss you, Sith,” Goran says.

“Has Kennex told you… the particulars of my situation?” Tasha asks.

“I know you’re dying soon.”

She nods, her mouth in a thin line. “I’ll be back, before the end, but until then…”

“We understand. I’ll go tell my other strategists.” Goran gives Kennex a lingering look before leaving out the back of the tent, undoubtedly so that Tasha’s guards don’t question why she remains inside.

Kennex presses his forehead to her temple and when he speaks it’s nearly a whisper. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I still do, but things are complicated, you know that.” Tasha brings her hands up and holds him in place. “We knew this day would come. That we could never have… more.”

He wraps his arms around her and she feels so soft, so  _ fragile, _ in those frivolous Sith robes. “I can see you between operations. I’ll go to Dromund Kaas.”

“If The Elder thinks you’re distracting me from my task, they will slaughter Meshurok and leave you alone in the wreckage,” Tasha says, passion coloring each word.

“I love you, too, Asha.”

With her hands still on his cheeks, Tasha pulls him back just enough for her to turn her head and give him a chaste kiss. “Don’t let this kill you, too.”

\---

After that day, Kennex doesn't see Tasha again. She was begging off because of the politics of her rank, but he knows it’s more than that. Time and again she told him the danger that Hyal the Elder posed to Clan Meshurok if they were to discover Tasha’s attachment to them. And then, of course, there was Tasha’s imminent… passing. She only ever wanted him if he could move on when the time came and it’s such a painful mix of selfishness and selflessness that Kennex doesn’t bother trying to untangle it.

The war between the Republic and the Empire rages on. Clan Meshurok stays at the fringes, with Goran wisely not committing them to the battlefield despite Mandalore’s commitment to the Empire. They’re too small to survive that kind of engagement when the Imperials aren’t willing to risk a sprained ankle to save a Mandalorian.

As the months pass, Kennex  _ does  _ start to see her again--on the holos circulating Imperial space. Dressed in those overly fancy Sith roles, she stars in accounts of “great victories against the Republic” on various colonies. The holos skip over how most of those worlds were defenseless civilians swallowed up by the Empire… and the reports, muttered around the clan fires, of what exactly happened to those civilians. Slaughter with the survivors pressed into slavery or shipped to Korriban to die. 

Kennex refuses to believe that Tasha actually carried out such atrocities. Surely it’s propaganda. At least until the holos start showing her with yellow eyes and an aura that seems to choke the air around her. He squeezes his eyes closed on those images, as much as he longs to see her, because he knows she’s not in control of herself. 

He remembers the purple smoke that left her wound on Olkin II and he remembers… His breath catches in his chest even thinking of thinking of thinking about that time. But he’s not a coward to shy away from the horrors that plague Asha. She’d captured some stupid  _ jetii _ stirring up trouble on another Imperial colony. She’d frozen in place after she’d finished interrogating him.

At first, Kennex had assumed a new thought came to her. A new line of questioning. But then he had been rocked back by a shockwave of Force energy. When he had regained his stance, Tasha had her right hand raised in a fist and the  _ jetii _ was clutching at his throat as Hyal the Elder choked the life out of him through Asha.

When the  _ jetii _ had stopped moving, Asha had put her hand over her eyes and stood silently. Her eyes had been yellow for a week after the incident and she’d not said a single unnecessary word in that time. Even at night, she had just lain stiff and silent in his arms. What could she have said? What comfort could he have offered her?

As time passes, Kennex’s surety that his love is still in there begins to crumble. It goes from confidence to fragile hope when he realizes he can’t remember the last time he saw a holo of her with blue eyes. While holding his shuddering grief in check, he pulls up old holos of her with Meshurok that he watches long into the night while sketching whatever comes to mind. 

The sketches started as gifts for her, when she first left. Pages of cute animals and the two of them fighting faceless hoards, but without consciously thinking about it, they’ve turned into memorial portraits and impossible dreams of what they could never have.

He wishes she would just come back. She always said that the Sith Corruption faded faster when she was with the clan. But he desperately wishes that she never does. When she promised she’d come back before the end, she meant she wouldn’t come back  _ until _ the end. And as much as seeing her like that tears his heart apart, he’d rather her alive and crumbling than… Marching where he can’t.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Insert my usual disclaimer about Mandalorians]
> 
> Mandalorians view someone's _self_ , their spirit, their soul, whatever you want to call it, as something not limited to their body in the physical sense, but also as something that persists after the body's death. Culture is in part shaped by language and _mando'a_ only has one tense: present. This is part of how it's comparatively easy to learn.
> 
> It's never said that a dead warrior "was" a good warrior. They still _are_ a good warrior. They persist. In this vein, one of their tributary phrases for the dead is translated roughly to, "Not gone, merely marching far away." That's what Kennex is referencing in his last line here.
> 
> Mandalorians often die in combat and so there's a lower incidence of a clan member growing into a different person (asshole) than you'd see in most other cultures, and when combined with most of the clan meeting as adults, the idea that someone is eternal makes sense. It's very reasonable that your _vod_ will not change at all over the course of their life (because remember, your life starts anew when you join). This leads naturally into death not changing anything.
> 
> Try to remember this for later.
> 
> Not for any particular reason.
> 
> I would never do that.


	10. Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions shouldn't be this sad.

Goran stops Kennex when they reach the door to Tasha’s temporary office. He looks like he’s aged a decade in the last year, but that’s not unusual in a war like this. He examines Kennex’s face for a long, silent moment before putting both hands on his adopted son’s shoulders. “You should wait here until the general and I are done with the business.”

The words are like a punch to the gut. Kennex frowns, but manages to keep the plea out of his voice when he says, “I can be professional. You know that.”

“I do know that. This isn’t about your professionalism. I’m not going to make you stand there, staring at her, unable to say or do anything while we hash out the details. It’d be torture for both of you.” Goran pats Kennex’s shoulders and then pushes his back against the wall so he can’t look through the door when it opens.

“Thanks, _buir_ ,” Kennex says, his throat tight with emotion.

“Of course, _ad_.”

The moment the door closes behind Goran, Kennex puts his face in his hands and takes several deep breaths. He’s wanted and feared nothing more than to see Tasha again. To hold her and feel warmth in his heart again. Even a Mandalorian can only lose a war for so many years before it takes a toll on him and when coupled with the nightmare slowing dragging Tasha where he can’t follow, he wakes up every day wondering if he’ll ever feel happy again.

The meeting seems to last an eternity, though the rational part of Kennex’s mind knows they’re both incredibly efficient. Not that Kennex knows what he’ll say when he sees her. He’s already said every word in his head to her at night when sleep won’t take him. When Goran finally exits, Kennex can’t hear a word the older man says. He just nods dumbly and steps into the office.

He keeps his gaze down to ensure that he actually closes the door behind him before… Something. When he looks up, Asha is _right there_ , her bare hand raised, but hovering just away from his face. Kennex moves into it and her fingers are like fire on his clammy skin. He wraps his arms around her tightly and feels her warmth through the polished Mandalorian iron. “Asha…”

“Kennex.” She closes her eyes and presses her forehead against his. In her fancy Sith shoes, she’s robbed of the height proper boots give her and she’s shorter than him, but it doesn’t feel _wrong_ because it’s _her_ and Kennex has felt the phantom of her against him every night since she left.

His breath catches in his throat because there are _tears_ on her cheeks and before this moment he would have said with complete certainty that she wasn’t capable of crying. Kennex cradles her face in both of his hands and wipes at the wetness. “Oh _cyare_.”

She opens her eyes and they’re wet, but _oh_ so blue. Her fingers dig into his cheek. “I wasn’t afraid before.”

“I’m sorry,” Kennex says.

“I’m sorry,” Asha repeats before closing her eyes and turning her face to hide her tears in his hand. “I said there was no hope, but I _looked_. I _tried_.”

She holds up her left hand, displaying the bare palm, but whatever meaning the gesture has is lost on Kennex. He leaves the hand over her eyes and holds her again. He tries to speak, but it comes out as a whisper. “I know you did. You wouldn’t let us go through this if there was any way to avoid it.”

“I don’t want to die,” Asha says, her voice breaking on the last word.

“ _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la._ You’ll never be gone, _cyare,_ I promise.” He kisses her temple.

Asha’s body hitches with a wet sob and she clings to him desperately. The furniture deeper in the office starts rocking with the force of her emotions. Mandalorian words, a Mandalorian _vow_ spill from her lips and it sounds like the most natural thing in the galaxy. “ _Mhi solus dar’tome_.”

The words rip the last of Kennex’s control to shreds and he starts crying with a loud sob. Kennex presses his tear-streaked face into her hair. They cling desperately to each other in the office’s dim entryway. Several times they try to speak, try to stem the flow of grief, but all they manage are garbled apologies and tragic words of love.

\---

Despite being back with Meshurok for this operation, Tasha continues to wear her elaborate Sith robes. Her expression is somber as she oversees the integration of Meshurok’s warriors with the strike team she brought to deal with the Republic incursion on Plokk IV. She never lets Kennex leave the reach of her arms, though she doesn’t touch him and barely looks at him.

“I don’t recognize any of your men. I was at least expecting Captain Mardh. I would have thought you’d need oil and a spatula to get him away from you,” Kennex says. He watches his words around these strangers, but he has a reputation of being mouthy to uphold.

For her part, Asha doesn’t smile, though her eyebrow quirks up for the instant she glances at him. “Captain Mardh retired. His wife just gave birth to their first child.”

“I’ll have to send him my congratulations,” Kennex says, real enthusiasm raising his voice loud enough that a few Imps look over, though they quickly return to their work on seeing Tasha’s grim expression.

“As you like.”

“What about the others?”

Tasha takes her time responding. A stranger would assume that the Sith was testing Kennex, or contemplating whether or not making small talk with _the help_ was worth it, but he knows she’s putting on a show. “It seems the war aged many of them unduly. Few ever took leave in my service. Now that their usefulness is past, they are no longer weighing down the military.”

 _She had them resign to avoid serving under her successor_ , Kennex thinks. _This is… really it._ He swallows the sudden lump in his throat. He gives her a respectful nod and takes a step back. “I’ll see you this evening to review the numbers, Lord General.”

Tasha’s head snaps to the side. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Kennex hears the desperate plea under the guise of Sith paranoia and it resonates with the constant ache in his chest. “There are things I need to discuss with my captains and some of our new strategies you will want to review.”

Asha’s eyes narrow as she does her own mental translation of his words. At length, she gives him a dismissive nod and turns back to the men.

As Kennex walks away, he feels a push on his shoulder and smiles. Though she won’t touch him in front of these men, she’s more than willing to brush him with her Force abilities. He gives the Mandalorian hand signal for ‘order received’ and believes in his heart that she knows, even if there’s no way she could see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it must be distracted how the narration switches between Tasha and Asha, but I _swear_ it's an intentional usage every time.
> 
>  _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la._ \- Not gone; merely marching far away. 
> 
> This relates back to my note on the last chapter.
> 
>  _Mhi solus dar’tome_ \- Apart, we are one. (Part of the Mandalorian wedding vows)
> 
> In other not surprising news, this chapter didn't go _at all_ the way I expected.


	11. Terrifying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a heart.

Tasha’s accommodations are near-silent in the night. She has an office in Imperial Command, but there’s a small desk in her bedroom if she wants to work in private. It’s covered on one side with crystals and twisted, glowing bits of metal that she assures Kennex are lightsaber components and on the other with the pile of sketches he saved for her over their two years apart. 

She hasn’t had time to look at them, but Kennex doesn’t mind. They’re only two days into the operation and even if she never finds the time, it won’t matter because she’s  _ here _ and  _ alive _ .

Kennex looks up from the mission orders turns his head just a little to the side to kiss Asha’s temple. They’re sitting side-by-side on her bed with their backs leaning against the headboard. Usually, Kennex does this kind of work in his armor in the Mandalorian camp, but Asha seems to  _ need _ his presence as much as he  _ wants _ hers. The haunted look that flashes in her eyes is more terrifying for its familiarity.

And worse still, knowing she’s a Sith from one of the most ruthless families. Even if her curse keeps scars off of her skin, she bears more than her share of them from the war. He wants to ask about it. To know when, exactly, he’s going to lose her, but even more he doesn’t want her to lose the soft expression on her face.

“Tasha, I love you...” Kennex says with deliberate clarity.

“Mmhmm?”

“And I know you’re a great general and terrifyingly competent…”

“But?” She prompts without looking up from her work. Her mouth is already quirked into a smirk.

“But your orders don’t make any  _ sense _ . I don’t know what kind of micromanagement the Imps need, but you’ve never told us what munitions to use before. And that itself wouldn’t be a problem, but,  _ cyare, _ you clearly have no idea what you’re talking about.” He holds the datapad in front of her and points to the specific orders. “That kind of heavy artillery is for cracking into bunkers. It’s not just overkill for a skirmish, it’s dangerous for our  _ vod _ .”

“Our  _ vod _ can handle it just fine,  _ riduur _ . I know what I’m doing. You’re the one who clearly hasn’t actually spoken with his  _ alor _ about the job.” She pokes him in the cheek with her stylus and then pushes his datapad away from herself with the Force.

Her words give Kennex such a swirling mix of emotions that he’s momentarily struck dumb. The loudest voice in his head is shouting that she just addressed him as  _ her husband _ , but he knows that if he lets that voice win and draws attention to it, she might not take it well. Second on the list is one making a sarcastic comment along the lines of ‘And when did I have time to talk to him when you won’t let me leave your sight?’ but he dismisses that one, as well. 

“I didn’t think it was necessary with the Red General herself so close,” Kennex finally says. He lets out an internal sigh of relief when he sees her smirk widen into a grin.

Tasha taps her datapad with the stylus a few times and pulls up a picture of Darth Lethalitus, Plokk IV’s Sith Governor. He looks mostly human, but his skin is such a sickly shade of ashen green that Kennex isn’t sure. She taps the center of his face a few times. “Doesn’t look like someone we want to help, does he?”

“I admit I’m curious as to why you’d come to his rescue,” Kennex says, playing along with whatever game she’s running.

“And why he’s  _ ever _ so cross at my presence.” Asha chuckles. “He’s hidden super-human genetics labs all over the moon.” Asha’s tone hardens. “He planned to evacuate his scientists and apprentices and then blow up the colony wholesale. Those sites where you’re supposed to lure Republic forces aren’t of any strategic value-”

“That was my next point.”

“-they’re directly above his labs. In order to keep the Republic, and me,” Asha scoffs and then laughs, “from discovering his experiments, he’ll come defend the locations as soon as your explosions start.”

“ _ Riduur _ ,” Kennex says, just to feel the word in his mouth, “you’re the most clever Forcer ever.” He laughs and nuzzles his face just behind her ear until she swats him away.

“The Republic clearly suspect  _ something _ about Plok IV, since they sent Master Ratton. He’s one of their military commanders.”

“I knew that,” Kennex says, even though he hadn’t.

“You didn’t know the Imperial Fox was a Sith. I have my doubts. Regardless, Ratton  _ should _ be able to kill Lethalitus, at which point I’ll take command and get rid of him. If he fails, I’ll kill Lethalitus myself.”

“What if the Hierarchy finds out?”

“I’ll be dead before they’re done arguing over whether or not it’s worth investigating,” Asha says in a sudden monotone. She deactivates the datapad and uses the Force to send it and her stylus floating across the room to land gently on the desk’s chair. She turns to Kennex and must see the stricken grief on his face because her expression softens and she kisses him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like we can pretend it’s not happening,” Kennex says, his voice a harsh whisper.

“The Elder is the same Sith as the first generation after the split with Sa’alle. For three hundred years they’ve been killing the Hyal heirs to alleviate the  _ need _ for an heir. I tried everything. I sought out some Jedi zealots, but even their strongest techniques couldn’t break the chains.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve been through so much while we were separated.”

“Better me than you.”

“I’ll spend my wishes on neither."

\--

“I’m starting to think you don’t do any actual fighting anymore,” Asha says when she appears behind Kennex. They’re deep in Plokk IV’s wilderness some time around midday. 

Kennex looks over his shoulder and a weight he’d forgotten was there lifts off of his chest. For the first time in more than two years, he sees Asha in her proper heavy armor. His hands go numb in surprise and he drops his sketchpad and charcoal. “ _ Cyare _ .”

Asha laughs in delight at his expression and plops onto the ground next to him, with her legs hanging over the cliffside with his. She waves her hand and the sketchpad and charcoal freeze in their plummet to the trees below. With a twist of her wrist they shoot back through the air to lightly settle on the ground. “I thought you were scouting.”

“Nice try, Fox. I know you’re the one that ordered we stop for the rest of the day,” Kennex says. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her closer until their armor is scratching together.

“Maybe I did. One of my officers was being a prat, so I demoted him to ensign and now the whole operation is a poisoned kilik mound.” She rolls her eyes and removes her shoulder bag.

“I think you enjoy the petty parts of being a Sith more than you admit.”

“If I have to take the bad, I may as well enjoy the good.” After rummaging in the bag for moment, she pulls out the heavy packet of his sketches. “Whenever I’m on base, there’s something more important that needs doing.”

“Taking care of yourself is important,” Kennex says. 

Asha meets his eyes and gives him a small smile, though she doesn’t say anything. With the quiet, unfamiliar rustle of paper, Asha slowly starts looking at his drawings.

Kennex stares at the beloved lines of her face, even though they’ve long since cut themselves a place deep in his memory. When he feels emotion starting to well in his throat, he picks up his sketch pad and goes back to the picture. He’s been working on a fox to put on a standard Asha will never use, but one he’ll keep for her. The draft is a strange dichotomy of cute and fierce, but Mandalorian life is full of dichotomies, so it feels  _ right _ in a way her real one never did.

Asha’s occasional, muted chuckles make a wonderful soundtrack for his work. Kennex nearly chokes on his heart when she starts humming under her breath and out of tune. It barely overpowers the scratch-scratch of his charcoal and her gauntlets against the rough paper, but it’s  _ there _ and so… So unrefined and raw and  _ honest _ that Kennex sniffs and has to blink a few times to keep from tearing up.

He’s working on the overly-bushy tail when he hears her gasp. Kennex looks over and his own breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t meant to include  _ that _ one. It must have been too close to the piles he carelessly threw together to give her. He swallows and waits for the inevitable questions.

“ _ Riduur _ ,” oh and if that endearment isn’t a gut punch on its own, “who is this?” Asha asks. Her fingers trace over the little boy’s face, completely ignoring the adorable puppy in his arms.

“He’s…” And Kennex knows he’s damned, even without the hesitation, but how can put  _ words _ to this ethereal dream? “He’s no one. I was just drawing the pup for you and it worked better like that.”

“You drew  _ our _ child.”

“I can’t imagine you- That we-” He swallows over the dryness in his throat. When he can speak again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “I know better than to dream of you being here forever, but I wanted  _ something _ to…” Unable to finish, Kennex puts his hand over his eyes and tries to hold back the helpless tears.

Asha leans over until her head is resting on his shoulder and there’s the whisper of paper as she turns to the next sketch. “He’s beautiful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the previous chapter are really as deep into PTSD as I want to go. It's a serious, debilitating condition and I've found that while people in general are not as considerate of it as they should be, the trend seems to be people coming around. 
> 
> People in Old Republic Era find paper an odd relic of the last age, so I found it really funny 3000 years later in TLJ that the ancient Jedi records were _paper books_. I have a joke theory that they were made by some fanboy who even wrote them in an ancient language, but since the Jedi didn't have a standard language outside of Basic, they wrote it in the other Forcer language... Ancient Sith. (Sith as a race pre-dating Sith as a profession)


	12. Theatrics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leathalitus needs to be dealt with.

The setting sun showers everything in a glittering golden hue that does nothing to warm the chill in Kennex’s heart. Even though his blood runs hot with the thrill of battle, Kennex can’t forget Tasha’s solemn words to him that morning.

_ “Ratton will challenge Lethalitus today. It will end; one way or another.” _

_ “And then you’ll leave?” _ He’d asked, heart in his throat.

Asha had nodded to him and touched her bottom lip with two fingers.  _ “There will be some few days while I settle affairs here, but then I must answer Malgus’s call.” _

Normally, Kennex would have disengaged and started a retreat for the day with nightfall imminent, but the Jedi hasn’t shown himself and Darth Lethalitus himself is on the battlefield, undoubtedly having sensed the same culmination that Tasha did. The Sith’s eyes send further chills down Kennex’s spine as he cuts down a three-legged Republic war droid. It warbles something about justice as its systems shut down and Kennex rips his vibrosword from the wreckage.

Without warning, Kennex’s muscles stop responding to his brain’s commands. He hears heavy thunks and thuds as his fellow warriors pass out from oppressive Force presence Darth Lethalitus is suddenly emanating.  _ Can Tasha do this? No wonder Mandalore continued the contract with the Empire. _

Painstakingly, Kennex wrestles control of his body and turns his head. Fully half of his  _ vod _ are on the ground, but the Republic’s lines are worse, with incoherent screams as Darth Lethalitus’s signature poison smoke descends on them. Kennex kneels next to Ty’lk and activates the emergency adrenaline boost to get his brother on his feet, though he doesn’t take his eyes off of the Republic forces and the sickly green mist slipping past their armor.

The weight in the air is gone as quickly as it appeared when one of the Republic soldiers removes his helmet. The soldier is actually Jedi Master Ratton, his snow-white echani skin obvious even across the distance. He draws a blue-bladed lightsaber and snaps his wrist in a gesture that makes the green cloud of poison disappear.

The Jedi tilts his chin up and says, “This is hardly the place for your theatrics, Lethalitus.”

Darth Lethalitus laughs in response, but it’s sharp and freezing, even in the warm light of the setting sun. When he speaks, his voice is a hissing rasp, but no quieter for it. “My power isss no mere theatricsss.”

Master Ratton laughs right back. He stalks past the Republic line and gestures his people to back away in a mirror to how Kennex’s brothers are already pulling back. When Master Ratton stops, he shifts into an aggressive pose that Kennex recognizes from echani sparring holos. He says, “You and I both know this is just an akk and kath show until the Red General is bored.”

The already prominent veins bulge in Darth Lethalitus’s face. He whips his right hand to the side and his red saber appears lit in it an instant later. “Hyal isss  _ nothing! _ A drop in the bucket that’sss tossed about in the wailing gale of my powersss!”

After he says the words, Darth Lethalitus raises both arms and summons a new cloud, but this one is sickly purple and sizzling loud and acidic on  _ Mandalorian _ armor. The Sith pays the Mandalorians no heed as he leaps at Ratton, their sabers meeting with a loud hiss of plasma in the center of the battlefield.

Not that Kennex has the mind to care. He and his  _ vod _ are scrabbling at the churned up ground, pressing mud and uprooted grass onto their armor to slow the alchemical burning. He has no idea how his voice is steady as he rattles off instructions through comms because his frozen heart is beating out of his chest and his hands shake from adrenaline inside of his gauntlets.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the purple mist is gone in blast of Force energy that  _ screams _ as it consumes the acid. Tasha is in the center of the battlefield, intricate red braid buffeted by the wind from her own Force technique. Though she’s right-handed, her blood-red saber is in her left hand. Her right hand is raised and glowing sharply red with light that encompasses most of her body. When she speaks, she sounds like a chorus of a thousand voices. “No one touches my men.”

The red glow on her hand shoots out and strikes Darth Lethalitus in the back, freezing him in place where he’s run through by Master Ratton’s blue saber.

Without withdrawing his blade, Master Ratton starts to say, “How nice of you to finally show your-”

His words are cut off by a blinding flash of light that emanates from Tasha’s chest before shooting up into the clouds. A second later, lightning, slow and purple as only a product of the Force could be, rockets down from the clouds and strikes Master Ratton and Darth Lethalitus’s corpse. The strike sends off a shockwave of power that rattles the ground.

Tasha lowers her hand and calmly turns to face the Republic lines. The red glow is back and outshines the setting sun. Her voice is back to its natural tenor and even though it’s low and even, some trick of the Force makes her audible across the field. “This is enough. You have twenty-four hours to leave the sector. Tell your pathetic Republic of the true power of the Sith, or perish in your beds.”

Still blazing with the power of the Force, Tasha walks regally off the battlefield and back towards the Imperial compound. The Republic soldiers scramble away, leaving their weapons and dead behind with the charred carbon statue that had been their Jedi Commander.

Kennex’s body and mouth work on autopilot as he orders the return to their camp. Through the haze in his mind, he sees his  _ vod _ moving uncertainty and occasionally staring at the dead Jedi with a shudder. They avoid looking at Kennex, unsure what to think of him now that they’ve seen this side of his partner.

_ With so much power inside her, it’s a wonder she’s been able to stay as much in control as she has. No wonder she wanted a simple life with us. No wonder Hyal the Elder will kill her once this war is over. _ Kennex closes his eyes for a single moment of grief before pushing all of those thoughts away and turning his full attention on the matter at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the scenes that translated most poorly to Male!Fox originally. He doesn't have a Force connection to some pool of Sa'alle power like Tasha does to Hyal, hence his version is a lot less dramatic. As I've said before the differences are almost exclusively based on circumstance and not gender. 
> 
> Male!Fox, in that he would be Talon Hyal, with Male!Hound would be identical to this up to this point. Some things in the remainder of the story will be different for reasons that will be obvious when they come up.
> 
> Chapter 16 is the end of the main story, but there are going to be at least two chapters after that.


	13. Awful Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are consequences to calling down so much power.

“... And then she just--” Kennex makes a sweeping gesture that is still completely insufficient to show the full scope of Tasha’s destructive power. “That was the end of both of them. It’s over.”

“I’m not sure if I picked a good time or a terrible one to go back to the  _ yaim _ early,” Goran’s holo says. “Are you going to be alright?”

“No. This is the last time I’m ever going to see Asha and now everyone’s terrified of her. It’s obvious no one has any idea what to say to me,” Kennex says. He rubs his temples, heedless of the ash and dirt he’s smearing on his face.

“They’ll get over it. She earned our trust; the shock will wear off.”

“You didn’t see it.”

“I’ve probably seen worse, pup. The galaxy’s full of awful things and your fox isn’t one of them. Take what time you can there and then come home. The Imperial Ministry of Defense is already handing out contracts for whatever it is Darth Malgus is up to and I need a few more excuses to keep us out.”

“Thanks. I’ll… Keep you apprised of the situation.”

Goran sighs, but Kennex knows it’s at the situation, not him. His father says, “Everyone has their own way of coping. Don’t be ashamed to let us know what you need.”

Kennex’s eyes feel hot, but he doesn’t have the… the energy, the space, the  _ will _ for any more tears at the moment. “I will.”

He ends the calls and walks back out into the camp. His  _ vod _ are still none-too-eager to come up and talk to him. They’re not quite afraid. It’s more of a wariness. Surely Kennex has  _ some _ hidden power that appeals to a Sith as strong as Tasha, they think. They can’t imagine it’s a big heart and a simple life with loving family that draws her in.

None of them had ever seen the full extent of her power, even Kennex hadn’t, but most hadn’t seen  _ any _ Sith release a barrage of Force lightning that strong. It’s not something you can forget - especially not with the unnatural silence that accompanies it where real lightning is followed by a thunderous crash. The only thunder on the battlefield today was Kennex’s heart beating nearly out of his chest.

But not out of fear. At least, not fear  _ of _ Tasha. Fear that… Even though she hadn’t told him, Kennex knows the terrible fate that awaits her. Her vague end at the hands of the Elder isn’t the clean death that she implies and lets the clan think. The Elder plans something much worse. Tasha’s body will live, but her mind, her  _ self  _ will be destroyed to let Hyal take possession of it. All of that terrible destructive power in the hands of a mad Sith, and the woman he loves worse than dead. 

It had taken him too long, but the signs are obvious in retrospect. He’s already seen the Elder take temporary control,  _ felt it _ when the strange power entered her, her eyes flared the sickly yellow and Hyal choked the life out of the Jedi. The moment of possession passed quickly, but he knows how devastating it had been to Tasha. He can’t imagine how it feels to be a prisoner in your own body, but he saw the aftermath and spent the following week silently telling her he understood and that it didn't change anything for him. It had been difficult, but worth it once she returned to normal.

No, Kennex doesn’t fear Tasha. But he fears that any moment might be the last time he looks into her eyes and sees  _ her _ instead of the other. He tries to wipe the doubts from his face as he enters the Imperial compound, but it’s past midnight and all he wants is to hold her and pretend this isn’t the end.

The Imps skitter away from Kennex as he stalks through the building to Tasha’s quarters. They were scared of her before the display, but now the honor has apparently spread to him, as well. The frame around Tasha’s door is glowing ominously as he approaches, but nothing happens when he enters, so he assumes it’s to keep the riff-raff away, as if the bioscanner isn’t enough.

She’s not in her receiving room, but there’s an active holocall on the coffee table. The holo Captain Mardh, former Captain Mardh, looks up from something out of frame as Kennex enters. His expression is harried and somewhat grim. “Meshurok. Long time no see.”

Kennex looks past the holo, but the door to Tasha’s bedroom is shut and as desperate as he is to see her, he has no idea what he’ll say, so he turns to the holo. His voice comes out stilted and a little awkward. “Captain. I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. He’s got quite a set of lungs on him. I won’t be surprised if he’s a Sensitive.”

Kennex laughs, though he doesn’t really feel it. “Every new parent thinks that.”

Mardh rubs his eyes and grumbles,  “This isn’t the first infant I’ve had in my flat. Anyway,” he continues before Kennex can ask, “Her Lordship is indisposed. It’d be for the best if you waited out here.”

“Indisposed?” Kennex asks, his heart in his throat. “Is she- I mean, the war’s still on- Surely-”

The holo of Mardh sighs. “The Elder knows she doesn’t plan to go quietly.  And they don't have much time left. They’ve been… opportunistic for the last few months. When I was still there-” Mardh cuts himself short and shakes his head. “She hasn’t locked you out, but for her sake, just… Get cleaned up, if you can’t sleep on the couch. Pace, sketch something, but just  _ wait _ .”

“I’m her  _ riduur, _ I should be helping her with whatever she has to do to keep them away,” Kennex says. As much as his voice is breaking and as much as his chest aches, he doesn’t move towards the door. “You just said that you helped her.”

“What help you can provide isn’t worth what it would cost you,” Mardh says. The man’s voice is weary and gruff, but the words are so  _ Asha _ that Kennex hears them as if they’ve come from her mouth.

“I can’t just do nothing.”

“She’ll want food in a few hours. Something meaty and heavy. Clean the war off you and find something in the city.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“The light show was visible from orbit. Do you think anyone’s sleeping?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with how I should describe and depict the measures Tasha has to take to avoid possession at this point. Between her not wanting to upset Kennex and my own desire to avoid as fully as possible triggering certain behaviors or thoughts, I ended up writing around it.
> 
> Which is a little disappointing because I had such a graphic picture of it in my mind, but it was a litte, uh, well, graphic I suppose.
> 
> 16 is the last chapter, but there will be some post-story chapters tacked on after.


	14. Stay Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things must end.

It’s nearly dawn when Kennex returns to the Imperial compound. Unlike on Olkin II, the residents of Plokk IV don’t love Tasha with overwhelming fervor, but Kennex was still able to find someone willing to cook stew for their Sith savior in the middle of the night. Even if they aren’t entirely sold on Tasha being a savior.

When he makes it back to Tasha’s quarters, the door to her bedroom is open, though Kennex can’t see her. He sets down the food containers on her coffee table and walks forward with shaking steps. He puts his hand on the door frame and leans in. “Tasha?”

There’s a pause and Kennex can hear rustling from the refresher before Tasha appears. Her eyes are glowing yellow, like eerie LEDs in her face. Her long, red hair hangs in wet hanks around her face and falls down to her knees without the braids hiding its length. She’s wearing one of his _kute_ with a thick, velvet dressing gown over it. Tasha looks like nothing so much as a tiny, frail thing pulled out of a lake and bundled up to hold back hypothermia.

Words crowd Kennex’s mind and his mouth and his heart makes itself known with every painful beat and out of the mess the only thing he can say is, “You’re wet.”

Tasha blinks at him and the way it changes the lighting in the room is unsettling, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She asks, “What?”

“You’re wet,” Kennex repeats. It sounds nonsensical, even to himself, but everything else is too complicated and heavy to speak.

“Yes… Showers tend to do that.” She snaps her fingers and the lights in her rooms brighten. Her eyes aren’t nearly so disturbing when they don’t change how well lit the space is. Tasha touches her bottom lip with two fingers and then says, “Are you… well? I’ve been… Otherwise occupied.”

“Am I-? _Riduur,_ you- Have you seen-” Kennex cuts himself off with a frustrated huff. He gestures behind himself to the table.  “Are you hungry?”

Tasha smiles and maybe it’s Kennex’s imagination, but it seems like the glow from her eyes dims. She touches his shoulder as she walks past him. She sits on her couch with thwump and inspects the containers. Without looking at him, she says, “Thank you for listening to Ivan. It’s better.”

With a heavy heart, Kennex moves to stand behind the couch. He grabs a wet hank of her hair and holds his right hand out. A moment later, her brush flies through the air under the power of Tasha’s Force and lands gently in his palm. He starts at the bottom and brushes out her damp hair. The regular motions are relaxing and Kennex finally manages to get some of his _words_ out. “What happened? What couldn’t I help with? How did you… resist?”

For several moments, the only sounds are from her dripping hair and the takeaway containers. Tasha bows her head over her food as she starts eating, but it’s not to make the process easier. Eventually, she says, “The Elder has experience with… reluctant heirs. They cannot enter a vessel that is too weak to sustain their spirit.”

Kennex translates that far quicker than he wants. _I’m safe if I’m dying._ His breath shudders audibly in his chest. He says, “But now you’re…” He can’t say _fine_ or _okay_ because he knows she’s neither, so he lets the sentence trail off.

Tasha kills more time eating, though she’s still demolishing it, so it’s not wasted. She eats quietly while he brushes out her hair. Finally, she says, “Between my sorcery and the measures I took last night, they’re too weak to overpower my mind at present.”

Kennex leans forward, kisses her temple and then pulls another hank of hair over the back of the couch to work on.

\---

They’re not sleeping. Kennex is pretty sure they couldn’t even if they tried, but they don’t try. They lay next to each other in Asha’s temporary bed with the lights bright and white to outshine the glow from her eyes. Sometimes Kennex’s gaze is too much for her, for his Red General, his Imperial Fox, and she presses her face into his palm and he savours some of the last touches he’ll ever have.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles against his hand. The words don’t mean as much as the way they’re said. Asha’s tossed aside all prim and proper pretense and is leaving her emotions bare in her voice and on her face.

“You did everything you could. That’s all anyone can ever ask,” Kennex says. He brings his free hand and traces his thumb over her cheek and forehead, moving over the lines of primal tattoos he’d drawn on her face so many times. His additions accentuate and hide the Sa’alle marks, both in one in a true Mandalorian dichotomy.

“I can’t stay long. They’ll make another push for control soon. They believe Malgus’s plot is a suicide mission.”

Kennex nods because he knows she needs it. “You think it is, too.”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“Asha…”

“My Intuition is weak and Aucht has none to speak of.”

“So if you _know,_ despite that, then it must be,” Kennex says. He kisses her when a conflicted look crosses her beloved face. “It’s not shameful to want to die in battle.”

Asha shakes her head, but doesn’t move away. “There’s no honor in what he has planned.”

“There’s none in sitting around waiting to die, either.” He brushes his thumb across her face again. Her hair is tied back in tight, if lopsided plaits put in place by his own hands, so there’s none to brush aside. Kennex sighs and scours his mind for _something_ else they can talk about. Something that won’t lead to tears. “We never got around to meeting Lord Aucht. Will he answer if I call?”

“In his own sweet time if he doesn’t think it’s an emergency. And if it _is_ an emergency, you’re better off with Sebastian regardless.”

Kennex lets his nose wrinkle in distaste because Asha thinks it’s cute when she’s well. “That pilot’s a bit of an ass.”

“I agree. You can hardly meet a more arrogant tit, but he owes us almost as much as Aucht does. And arrogance aside, they’re very good at what they do and they can be trusted.”

“You’re putting _Home_ into their hands; I believe you.”

“If, _if,_ Malgus succeeds and brings the Republic to its knees…” Asha presses her face into his palm again and takes a few slow breaths. “Do you remember I met with some Jedi zealots?”

“No, I must’ve forgotten,” Kennex says, though he knows it’s a lie. Of a sort. Every word she’s said to him since they met again is seared into his brain and most of them are recorded on his bodycam. No, he doesn’t remember, but only because she never told him about such a thing.

“I did. Even their strongest technique could not block the Elder. But neither can Force suppression, so I was not surprised, only disappointed.” Her expression darkens for a moment before clearing again. “Regardless, I planted some of my people in their ranks. They’ll bring anyone worthy to Meshurok.”

“I’ll let _alor_ know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

“You may not always,” Asha says. Her voice is thin and despairing and sounds as fragile as she looked earlier.

Kennex swallows the lump in his throat. “I will. I love you, even the dark parts.” He leans on and presses a kiss against each of her eyelids.

Asha gasps out a quiet sob and then presses herself against him so she can cry into his shoulder.

\---

Asha’s eyes are still yellow when they say their final goodbyes. Gold and crystal baubles are intricately woven into her many braids, a feat that took two servants and no small amount of Force trickery. Her robes are no less opulent, with real gold and precious gems sewn in as casual ornaments and carelessly stained by the planet’s brown mud as if they're not worth a fortune.

But there’s one difference between this Asha and the one that first told him of her promotion. The Sa’alle marks on her face are painted over in black with the sharp and bold lines she wears in Kennex’s dreams. No one would ever question her, the Red General, about covering her House marks, but Asha had assured him it was normal in Sith circles, regardless.

They are such a small part of the stunning picture she paints, but they warm Kennex’s heart. She will die in battle as his partner, not some Sith simulacrum.

Though her Imp bodyguards are watching, Asha stops at the bottom of her ship’s ramp. She turns and gives Kennex the Mandalorian hand signal for dismissal after a completed job. “ _K’oyacyi_.”

He nods his acknowledgement and says, “ _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,_ Asha.”

And then she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _kute_ just refers to what you wear under your armor as a Mandalorian.  
>  _K'oyacyi _\- "Stay Alive" it usually means "See you later."  
>  _“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Asha.”_ \- "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, Asha." __
> 
> __As mentioned before, since Mandalorians believe in this eternal existance, Asha being possessed and losing her own mind is much worse than actually dying._ _
> 
> __I struggled a lot with what to include in this chapter. Even though the measures Tasha took to ensure she wouldn't be possessed were literally a matter of life and death, it was, perhaps a little gratuitous and I was really concerned about spreading weird thoughts about self-harm, even though so few people read this._ _
> 
> __The thing is, Fox is so glorified and everything they do seems so _right_ and necessary and appropriate, that it could leave subliminal suggestions for those struggling with those issues. Fox is really not a good person. They do good things and good works, but their morality is heavily skewed because of how straight up evil classic their family is._ _
> 
> __Anyway, one more chapter and then some post-story bits :3_ _


	15. Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some leave. Some return.

By the time the Empire announces the death of the Red General, the Imperial Fox, Tasha Hyal, Meshurok’s warriors have forgotten they were ever afraid of her. There’s a bonfire and a Battle Circle to celebrate her conquests and even an exhaustively researched accounting of her Points.

Kennex accepts the condolences with grace and drinks only his share during the impromptu wake that everyone knew was coming, but no one planned. He doesn’t cry; he gave Asha all of his tears and he’s pretty sure he won’t have any more until he adopts some kids. His heart gives painful beat and his smile wavers for the first time.

Before leaving, Asha had taken a single sketch with her. The one he made of their illusory son.  _ No one will say anything if I only adopt girls, _ he thinks before shoving the thoughts away.

His smile is back in place by the time his father comes up to his shoulder. Goran keeps his voice low, so that no one else can hear the seriousness in his tone. “I got a call from one of the general’s people.”

Kennex nods and doesn’t take his eyes off of the two warriors in the ring. “Mardh sent me a message just before the announcement.”

“Nah, not him. This about some zealots the Republic disavowed when they signed the Treaty.”

“Ah. Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

“They’ll be here in a few days. She said to call in your Forcer friends to deal with some of them. The general didn’t have the time to review everyone personally, so they don’t want to take any chances.”

Kennex makes an affirmative sound. “I’ll do it tonight. She said Aucht can be a little squirrely and I want this finished up before I have to go to Kaas to see Mardh.”

“You’re going to Kaas?” Goran asks.

“She left us some of her things, unofficially, of course.”

“Of course.” Goran puts his hand on Kennex’s shoulder. “You’re… Taking this a lot better than I thought. Better than when she left.” The worry is clear in his father’s voice.

“I’m not going to let her down now, old man.”

\---

Asha’s people arrive at the  _ yaim _ three days later with a handful of  _ former _ members of the Soldiers of Kyrsha. They are a mix of sheepish relief and quiet trauma as they wait for clearance to enter the camp itself. The woman in charge is one of Asha’s captains whose name Kennex forgot. She gives him a sharp salute. “Meshurok.”

“Good to see you again, Captain,” Kennex says. “Goran and the Sith are waiting for you in the command tent.”

Her face twists expressively into a caricature of suffering. “Tell me it’s not Lord Aucht.”

“Sorry,” Kennex says without remorse.

“His parlor tricks are so tiresome and I have to stand there looking suitably cowed for twenty minutes while he witters on.”

“I’m sure you did something to deserve it.”

The captain makes a rude gesture at him before stalking into the Mandalorian camp. Kennex turns back to the former zealots in time to see a man sprinting out of their ship. He draws his vibrosword and shifts into a defensive stance as the man approaches at an unnatural speed.

When he’s in spitting distance, the man shouts, “Kennex!” and Kennex barely has the time to deactivate his blade before he’s tackled. “No one told me we were coming  _ home! _ This is fantastic!”

“Kajir?!” Kennex half-shouts. He embraces his brother with vigor, heedless of the way their armor screeches together. “It’s you! You’re alive! And a zealot! You idiot!” Kennex headbutts Kajir before pulling away.

Kajir rubs his forehead while he laughs. “I guess I deserved that. Really, though, no one told me we were going to a Mandalorian camp, let alone that it was ours!”

Kennex grabs him around the neck and rubs his armored knuckles into his brother’s scalp. “Dumb kid, you can’t just go where the evil  _ dar’jetii _ ’s people say without questioning it!”

“Hey, quit it, I’m older than you.”

“Yeah, by a week, no one cares,” Kennex says as releases Kajir.

Kajir tries to right his hair and armored robes into some semblance of dignity, but he’s grinning too widely to look anything like a Jedi. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Kennex nearly jumps when one of his  _ vod _ puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Go take care of him. I’ll cover the gate,” she says.

“Are you sure, Catra? We can catch up later. It’s just Kajir.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, I delivered the both of you. Go on, brats.”

Kennex drags Kajir through the camp and out the other side to the cliffside outlook Kennex claimed as his own the moment they chose the site. They sit with their legs hanging over the edge and Kajir lets out a shaky laugh.

“Thanks for that. I don’t… I know what Catra meant for us to do, but I’m not really prepared to see Dad again.”

Kennex punches Kajir’s metal pauldron. “Forget about it. That’s what family’s for. You had that ‘I didn’t think this through’ look all over your face when Catra showed up.”

Kajir laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I feel like I’ve been making that face constantly for the last two years. I couldn’t sit back and be a pacifist anymore, but… Well, maybe the Soldiers wasn’t a good idea. Though, I’m here now, so maybe?”

“Blah, blah, no coincidences in the Force and that rot,” Kennex says.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised Tasha knew Meshurok, considering,” Kajir says, his gaze lost on the trees below.

Kennex is glad his brother can’t see the stricken, shocked look on his face before he gets control of himself. “Tasha? Considering?”

“Er, the Red General.”

“I know who she is; I’m surprised you’re on a first name basis with her.”

Kajir glances at Kennex and rubs the back of his neck again. “It’s, uh, complicated.”

_ Yeah, I can see that _ , Kennex thinks. “Would you rather go see  _ buir?” _

“Alright, story-time!” Kajir says with forced cheer. “So, everything is connected in the Force. Everything alive. Droids don’t count. So, you, me, the grass, the akk down there.” Kajir gestures between them. “You and I, we’re close together in the Force because we’re brothers. I’m still pretty close to everyone who was in the clan when we were kids.”

“I know sometimes Forcers can Sense it if their apprentice gets hurt or something,” Kennex says, not sure where this is going.

“Exactly! Well, sometimes you’re close to strangers, too. I mean,  _ someone _ has to be close to them and sometimes that person is you. That’s me and Tasha. We’re  _ very _ close in the Force. I could feel her when she approached our base. It was like being warm for the first time after hunting wampas.”

Kennex watches Kajir’s face as he talks. His brother’s expression is unmistakable: he’s hopelessly infatuated with Asha. It makes his heart sink for so many reasons that he doesn’t feel guilty about not examining them. He clears his throat and says, “Sounds… like being close in the Force means something.”

Kajir nods somewhat absently, clearly caught up in his memory of meeting Asha. “She’d just been made a general. She wanted to see Kyrsha’s Light and was willing to exchange a lot of intel on her peers to get it.”

_ Oh _ , Kennex thinks, his heart still a weight in his chest.  _ She wanted to be free so badly.  _ “Do you know what she wanted to see it for?”

Kajir shakes his head. “I should have known. I suppose I could have. She and I are- Were. Were so closely connected in the Force, I could have seen through her eyes. Heard what she heard. Spoken to her in the privacy of her own mind. If she’d let me in, I would have known.”

Kennex releases the breath he’ll later deny he was holding.

His brother doesn’t notice and keeps talking. “But she didn’t care about the closeness and what it meant. Not that I blame her. She did let me in. Just for a second. Just one instant to tell me what hours of conversation could never truly convey. I was taught that Sith are all chaos and negative emotions and the Dark Side and I know there was some of that in her, but that’s not what she showed me. It probably wouldn’t have dissuaded me, anyway.”

Kennex nods, remembering the yellow of her eyes and how it made him  _ sad, _ but didn’t take away from his love for her. He doesn’t really want to hear what Asha showed Kajir. He’s known for years what was in her heart, momentary fear and jealousy aside.

Kajir shivers and rubs his arms. “The Dark in her was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Kyrsha’s Light can show you the Dark Side corruption. What it looks like on their spirit. Not just the bulging veins and yellow eyes. Tasha is… Was. Tasha  _ was _ like a woman drowning in darkness. She was fighting,  _ clawing _ her way out, silent and stoic. The power that churned under her skin… and she resisted it.”

With a sigh, Kajir rubs his eyes. “She held out her left hand and cut it to the bone. Not a flinch, not a single muscle twitch. And then she thrust her arm up to the shoulder in the Light. You can’t imagine the pain, Kennex. I was barely tainted and I passed out the first time the Light touched me. She didn’t make a sound, but her face twisted in a silent scream still haunts me. Then she just pulled it out and… nothing. No wound. Not even any irritation from the Light.”

Kennex remembers her showing him her bare, unmarked palm and it all makes  _ sense _ now and though his chest hurts and his throat is suddenly sore, his eyes are dry. He swallows around the scratchiness. “Sounds… intense. No wonder you have stars in your eyes.”

“What?” Kajir says, clearly startled out of his memories. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, that was impressive, but that wasn’t when she let me in. I just…” Kajir clears his throat and looks embarrassed. “Like I said, the Dark in her didn’t dissuade me.”

“I understand.”

“Not really. You would have had to have known her. Truly known her the way I did.”

Kennex snorts, but it’s with humor at his brother’s arrogance. “You and no one else?”

“Well, me and one other. She has a lover.” Kajir gestures at the camp. “By our standards, nothing less than a spouse. The depth of her love for him is staggering. I really did trip, too.”

Kennex laughs and laughs  _ hard _ because if he doesn’t he might just cry those tears he doesn’t have and he’s  _ known, _ he’s known so well how she felt, but to hear it from someone else, someone that’s not trying to help him cope with the loss of her is almost too much. 

Oblivious to the real reason for the laughter, Kajir pushes on with his story. “Yeah, laugh it up. It gets better. So I trip and before I can get up, her baby gives her a straight kick to the kidney. Let me tell you, being kicked  _ from the inside _ is…”

But whatever else Kajir has to say is lost on Kennex because he can’t hear anything past  _ her baby _ and his mind is suddenly racing. Asha  _ had _ seemed slightly off just before her promotion, but at the time Kennex had written it off as their impending separation. Then there was her insistence that he wouldn’t forgive her if he knew everything. And then there was  _ Mardh _ who had had some  _ other _ infant in his flat and before he realizes it, Kennex is on his feet.

Kajir jumps up from the ledge and grabs Kennex’s arm. “Are you okay? Well, I know you’re not. I’m an Empath and it feels like the galaxy just exploded. Did you lose a…? Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

It takes more strength than Kennex knew he had to stay still and actually listen to his brother’s words. They take an eternity for Kajir to say and even longer for Kennex to understand. When they finally make sense, Kennex says, “I need to go to Kaas. I need to tell  _ buir _ I need to go to Kaas.”

“Why? What’s on Dromu...nd… Kaas…” Kajir trails off and his pupils go huge for a moment while his Force intuition fills in the gaps and suddenly they’re tripping over each other to get Kennex to the command tent. “You need to go to Kaas. By the Force. Of course it wasn’t random that I was so close to her. But why would she hide the baby?”

“She was afraid he’d die like her. She wouldn’t make me lose them both.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a good example of Fox not being a good person. They have a bad habit of removing choice and limiting the agency of other people because They Know Better. I still love them.
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO, A FRIEND OF MINE WAS KIND ENOUGH TO MAKE A TAROT CARD OF FOX AS PART OF AN ART TRADE AND IT'S GLORIOUS. [ LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT IT. LIKE AND REBLOG IT A MILLION TIMES BECAUSE IT'S AMAZING.](https://elalavella.tumblr.com/post/171061889769/spread-my-legacy-like-wildfire-through-a-forest)


	16. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennex has a lot of feelings and not a lot to do with them.

Kennex isn’t alone when his ship rockets towards Dromund Kaas. Kajir insists on accompanying him--whether because he’s just been reunited with his brother after years, his lingering feelings towards Tasha, his guilt, or some combination thereof. Kennex doesn’t really care. Kajir’s just lucky he made it to the ship first or he would’ve left without him.

Kennex would’ve been content to not say a word, silently urging the ship to move faster, but it’s too much for Kajir. He picks at the armor he’s disguised in, clearly not comfortable back in a set after years in Jedi robes, clears his throat several times, finally speaks.  

“So… You and Tasha.” He says it awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with his infatuation now that he knows it was his  _ brother _ she loved so completely. “Not what I expected from this mysterious love of hers. But it makes sense; she was… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Kennex grunts. 

“Even with--” Kajir waggles his fingers, causing a cup of caf to wobble slightly. “That must’ve been an adjustment for you.” 

“I didn’t care. We didn’t care. She was born with it, but it wasn’t who she was.” Kennex shakes his head. “She used it a lot, but it was… so natural for her. So fitting, but despite it she’s  _ mando’ade _ . But  _ they’d  _ never let it happen. They would’ve wiped us off the map before they let her go.” 

Kajir nods, frowning at his brother. “That family has killed more for less.” 

Kennex sighs, his mind racing back ahead to what waits for him in the Imperial capital. “She carried him alone. Carried the burden of the secret, so I wouldn't suffer. Knowing we had a son this whole time, but not able to utter a word. The look on her face when I drew  _ him _ …” He reaches up to wipe his face, but it’s still dry.

“She had to. I know it doesn’t help, but… I can’t tell you how many Sith curses the Light washed away. It  _ never  _ failed. Not until she stuck her arm in it like a crazy person. We thought- I thought she wanted to learn it. To use it again them. But all she wanted was freedom for herself and your child.” 

“I know.”  _ Not that it makes it hurt any less.  _

Kajir falls mercifully silent, presumably not needing Empathy to sense that Kennex doesn’t want to keep talking about it. But he can only hold it in so long, and looks back at his brother a few minutes later. Clearly, he has no one else to talk about her with. In Kajir’s place, Kennex can’t say he wouldn’t do the same.

“You can tell me what the  _ aliit  _ has been up to the last fifteen years. Or you can tell me what she was like around people she trusted.” Kajir’s eyes glow sharply with desire for what Kennex has to say, but only for the latter. Even if Kajir  _ wants _ to come home for good, he’s wandered away from the Six Paths.

Kennex nearly chokes on his laugh. “I thought you knew her like no one else?”

“It's a different kind of knowing. And probably the only thing you can think of now.”

Kennex flicks through pictures on his datapad. Because of how fragile paper is, he takes care to scan his drawings and there's nothing he wants to see more than his son’s face. Distracted, he says, “She loves cute things.”

Kajir blinks at him. “You’re kriffing me. There’s no way.” 

“I’m dead serious. That fox sigil of hers? She didn’t like it  _ because it wasn’t cute _ .” Kennex grins at the memory of the conversation.

“Damn. I had my Force rooting all around in her Force and I wouldn’t have guessed  _ that _ . I only knew what she wanted to tell me. She managed to keep a lot closed-off.” 

“She had to. But there was a person under that hard-edged Sith general. That’s the Asha I fell in love with.” Even though it’s his brother, Kennex savors the way Kajir flinches at the nickname.

“You’ll always have it. That connection and truth. Nobody else ever did,” Kajir says, trying and failing to hide his own feelings. He puts his hand over his chest. “Even though she didn’t let the connection really form, I can still feel that she’s… Gone. I can’t imagine how it must be for you.” 

“She’s with me, eternally.” Kennex squares his shoulders. “And our son is coming back to the clans to be raised as a warrior, like she’d want. I don’t care what we have to do to Hyal to make it happen.” 

“There’s going to be curses. But I… well I  _ think  _ I can keep him safe very temporarily until we get him to an expert. From there… Let’s hope the Force is with us.” 

“She told me who to ask. Let’s hope he’ll be willing to do Tasha’s memory a favor.”  

\---

When Mardh answers the door, he looks like nothing so much as Goran’s description of ‘that weasely man that can’t grow a mustache.’ He also looks equal parts pleased and tired. “Meshurok. Good to see you. And you’re Goran’s other boy, right?”

“Right.” Kajir is openly surprised that Mardh recognizes him. “Just, uh, here to help with…” He gestures for Kennex to explain. 

Kennex stares at Mardh for a moment, trying to judge the other man. The other  _ father. _ They’d become close over his time with Asha and he thinks he has a pretty good grasp on the Imperial. Finally, he says, “Your message said Asha left some things for me.”

“Of course,” Mardh says as he moves out of the way and gestures them inside. “Tea?”

Kajir blinks. “Uh, that would be nice. But we’re in a hurry. Right?” 

“Tea would be great,” Kennex tells Mardh. When he and the antsy Kajir are seated at a low coffee table strewn with infant toys, he speaks in  _ mando’a. _ “ _ I have a feeling I’m about to ask him to go against his beloved commander’s direct orders. May as well let him have the ritual. It’s been two years, I can wait another ten minutes. _ ”

Kajir nods, looking suitably chastised.  _ “Right. I’ll let you handle this.”  _

Mardh returns with the tea service and sits opposite them on an armchair, though he immediately stands and removes a plush toy from the cushion before sitting again. He tosses the toy near the bin on the opposite side of the room. “I don’t know how these get everywhere.”

“Let me guess,” Kennex says, “you didn’t have that problem with the  _ other _ child.”

Mardh raises his eyebrows and innocently sips his tea. A grin flickers across his face for a moment before it returns to his normal, bland expression. His mannerisms are so reminiscent of Asha that it pricks at Kennex’s heart in a way that clearly isn’t mirrored in Kajir. 

“Picked up on that, did you?” Mardh says. “You didn’t say anything before now.”

“It was pretty oblique,” Kennex says. “I almost forgot about it.”

“We all have duties to fulfill. You can’t imagine the fast-talking it took to keep Meshurok from facing capital charges in the Empire,” Mardh says in a blatant attempt to change the subject. He gives Kajir a pointed look.

“Uh, I’ve just returned and can’t speak for everyone, but I imagine it’s appreciated,” Kajir mutters, suspecting it’s something to do with him, even though he hasn’t been a part of Clan Meshurok since he was a boy. 

“You’d’ve done well to  _ not _ wear Mandalorian-style armor, speak  _ mando’a _ and tell people  _ what clan you’re from _ when, according to the Empire, you shouldn’t have been given to the Jedi,” Mardh says. “You’re lucky I was Intelligence.”

Kajir flushes. “I did a lot of stupid things with the zealots that could’ve gotten back to the clan. It’s fortunate there was someone like you to clean up the mess a little.” 

“In his defense, we’re not actually subject to Imperial law,” Kennex says.

“That wouldn’t have saved your clan from the Sith,” Mardh says. He sets down his cup. “I wasn’t expecting you for some time. What changed?”

Kennex points his thumb at Kajir. “He Sensed she was pregnant when they met.”

“Ah, well, thank the Force for that.” Though he hadn’t looked tense before, Mardh nearly melts in relief as he says those words. “You must understand that I was bound to secrecy. I didn’t always agree with her directives, but I owe her my loyalty.”

“Am I going to have to ‘interrogate’ you to find him?” Kennex asks, using finger quotes.

Mardh laughs. “No, he’s taking a nap in his room. Keeping you away if you knew was too much, even at her most paranoid, Her Lordship acknowledged that.”

Kajir nods. “Right. But won’t the--” He makes an aborted hand motion. “Won’t it be noticed if Kennex takes him back to the clan?”

Mardh prepares himself a second cup of tea, unhurriedly measuring out his sugar. When he looks up at Kajir, it’s with a raised eyebrow. “Noticed how?”

“I assumed they  _ knew  _ when he was born. From the curses in her bloodline.” 

“If  _ they _ noticed, they’ve made no sign of it. By all appearances, he’s Force Blind. Her Lordship just wasn’t willing to take the gamble. Sometimes it doesn’t seem to manifest until the child is older. She and I agreed that the Elder wouldn’t have been nearly so desperate to take her if there was another vessel.”

Kennex sighs in relief and rubs his eyes. “Whether or not they know, if he’s Blind he’s useless to them. She was just being paranoid. Oh  _ riduur, _ if you’d only told me...”

“ _ Oh _ . I thought she’d left a blocking device of some sort already because I couldn’t feel a thing.” Kajir grins at his brother. “That explains it!” 

“Blocking devices don’t work,” Kennex says. “If they did, she would have just worn Force cuffs and stayed with us.”

Mardh nods solemnly. “The cuffs make it worse. She explained it to me once, but it’s all very esoteric.”

“Right. Didn’t think about that.” Kajir rubs the back of his neck. “Kriff, there might not have been a way to pull this off if he  _ wasn’t  _ Blind.” 

“Which is why she kept him secret,” Mardh says. “As far as the Empire is concerned he’s a bastard of mine, so no one will question it when he’s gone. You can tell Meshurok whatever you like; I trust your discretion.”

Kennex has his head in his hands. “I’m not ready for this. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t want to be Mandalorian?”

Kajir touches his shoulder. “I can’t imagine how it feels. But you know the clan will do anything it can to help with this.”

“No one’s ever ready, Kennex. Not even Tasha. She recorded a lot of holos for you and Tarash. You can see it first hand.”

Kennex takes a few deep breaths to try to center himself, to try to calm down and eventually he meets Mardh’s eyes. “I think it’s time to take my son home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is several chapters worth of post-story, but I am going to just post it up as a single chapter. It's from a different POV character and thematically very different from the rest of the story, so I am including it in the style of an epilogue.
> 
> Remember the tarot card linked last chapter? It has created a monster. [Read ahead here](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/post/171143802654/title-morning-comes-1-fandom-star-wars-the) or wait for it to be posted here on Ao3 in several days. It's Fox's backstory, in which we're reminded that he's neither straight nor a good person.


	17. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galaar is Mandalorian and no amount of Jedi indoctrination is going to change his mind.

Galaar might be just another young trainee in the Jedi Temple on Tython, but he has a secret. He knows there’s something vaguely  _ wrong  _ about what he’s doing, something the Masters would no doubt frown upon if they knew that he knew, but he doesn’t care. He’s a child, and Jedi training or not, the wonder of his secret keeps him coming back.

He stumbled across it more or less by accident--or the will of the Force, perhaps. Deep below the Temple there’s a secret prison. He didn’t even realize the Order had such a thing. Perhaps that’s why he’s never told anyone--as wrong as his secret is, there’s something far  _ more  _ unsettling about how the Jedi could keep such a thing,  _ here  _ of all places. 

They’re clearly all Sith of some sort, but one of the women is different both in who she is and how she’s kept. She speaks  _ mando’a _ , and as young as Galaar was when he was sent here, he knows that was  _ his  _ language. They’re both members of the clans.  _ Family. _ The Jedi say that you must let go of your previous life, but something in his blood won’t let him forget. 

“You look better today,” he pipes up cheerily as he walks up to the woman in her cage. “Your hair’s coming back and everything!”

She eyes him warily from the raised platform. Her cell is something special. There are no windows and the only door is blocked by a Force ward he spent weeks convincing he was allowed through, as though it was some reluctant pet he'd had to win over. And past the rows of normal-looking cells was a  _ second _ Force door that opened up to this raised platform with bars that shivered with the Force.

Her hair is blood-red and falls to her shoulders, though the ends are still jagged from when it was shorn next to her scalp. Galaar remembers the first time he saw her, how she stared defiantly down at the door, as if challenging the entrant to comment on her appearance. She’d called him  _ ad _ and said he didn’t belong.

Now, she taps her bottom lip with two fingers and says, “You shouldn't be here, child.”

She hasn't called him  _ ad _ since the first time. As if he would forget. 

“You say that  _ every  _ time. But nothing’s gone wrong yet,” Galaar says, walking boldly through the empty space until he’s just out of reach of the bars. “Besides, Master Jarroq will be asleep for hours.” 

“Has it not occurred to you that I'm in a bespelled cell for a reason?”

“You fought the Jedi. Obviously. But you’re not  _ evil _ like the other Sith,” he says with childish confidence. “I can tell.” 

“My evil is more effective when you don't expect it,” she replies. She turns her back to the bars as if nothing can harm her. Though, Galaar has noticed she no longer has the dark purple bruises she did when he first snuck in, so maybe nothing  _ can. _

“Even if you’re evil, the Jedi should be trying to reform you. Not throwing you in this underground cage,” Galaar says. He sits cross-legged across from her back and folds his arms over his chest, sticking his hands in the droopy, opposite sleeves of his robe. Even though she’s not facing him, he stays far enough back that she can’t rap him on the nose like a misbehaving akk. He wrinkles his nose, remember the several times she tried to teach him that lesson.

“They tried to reform me, but I turned  _ them _ instead.” She chuckles, but Galaar knows she doesn’t think it’s funny. “That's why they don't let anyone talk to me anymore.”

He leans forward, planting his hands on the cold, stone floor. “Really? How’d you pull that off?” 

“They didn't think I was that dangerous. Nothing I said sounded  _ too _ bad. And, day by day, they started thinking I was a good person and shouldn't be locked up.” Her words almost compel him to listen, but locked in Force cuffs as she is, that’s definitely impossible. “But I'm the Red General.”

“You just don’t seem like the person from the stories. They say you slaughtered entire colonies for Dark Side rituals,” Galaar says with barely disguised thirst for the bloody details. 

She holds up her right hand and clangs the Force suppression cuff against one of the bars. “It takes more than this to stop me when all I need are words. You keep coming back, don't you?”

“Because some things are bigger than Jedi and Sith. What clan were you from? I didn’t think clans took people like us… I mean,  _ mine  _ sent me  _ here _ .” He doesn’t expect a real answer and she always stops talking to him when he brings it up, but he always has to ask. 

“Forcers are anathema to Mandalorians. I tricked you into thinking I was Mandalorian to gain your trust. Because I'm evil.” She says the last part slowly, as if he doesn't understand. 

“But you know Mandalorian words! They don’t let outsiders learn their language.

And Master Jarroq says to trust my instincts and they say you’re alright.” 

“You're very young; you have a lot to learn,” she says with finality. 

Though he coaxes and cajoles, like he did with the wards, like he does every time, she's done talking for the day. As usual, he leaves unsatisfied. 

\---

Galaar comes back to see her again a few days later when his Master is stuck dealing with a chemical spill in one of the study labs. This time, he almost runs through the wards and once inside empty room with her cage, he’s too excited to even sit down. He grins triumphantly at her. “I figured it out.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, but then goes back to reading. The datapad in her hand is one of the boring, locked ones from the library with no holonet access. The symbol of the Jedi Order on the back has been scratched off from repeated scrapings against the cell floor.

“You let it slip last time. The ‘Red General.’ There are pages and pages about  _ that  _ on the HoloNet. And I found out that she--you--hired a Mandalorian clan called Meshrok to work for her--you.” 

“I don't see how hiring the best killers in the galaxy makes me less evil,” she says. Without the Sith robes and makeup from the holos, she almost looks like a different person, but the tattoos on her face are clear, even if the HoloNet says the Red General is dead. 

“The ‘Net says that the clan refuses to work for other Sith to this day. Nobody’s sure why, but it’s pretty obvious that they respect your memory,” Galaar says. He sticks his chest out, proud of his research skills. 

She shrugs and otherwise doesn’t acknowledge his accomplishment. “Or they could be afraid my Force ghost will come and smother their children in their barracks.”

“If they were  _ just  _ afraid, who taught you the language?” 

“Who taught you? You were brought here before you could speak properly.”

“Well… okay… the HoloNet. But  _ that  _ one doesn’t get it,” Galaar says quickly, pointing at her locked datapad. “So you aren’t just pretending so you can corrupt me. You knew it before.” 

“From when I used it to corrupt the clan I hired to do my killing,” she says slowly. 

“But why’d they never work for another Sith in that case?” 

“The geas isn't so easily lost.” She looks up from the datapad. Her eyes are  _ blue, _ not yellow or orange or red like  _ real _ Sith. “What do you have to gain from this quest of believing I'm not evil?”

Galaar frowns at her. “You being here is wrong and I know I’m right about that. You should just admit I’m right.” 

“And if it is wrong, there's nothing you can do, little bird.”

“I’ve continually got down here without them noticing. I’m just a kid, but I could do things. I can help you.” 

“They’re allowing you in here. It's a test.”

“And if I fail it I get thrown out of Jedi school?” 

The Red General laughs for real and it makes her look nothing like a Sith. “Nice try, but they're not going to send you home. Isolated training is more likely.”

Galaar sighs. “That would be worse. But what kind of person am I if you  _ are  _ not-evil and I just let you rot here like all the others?” 

“You should return to your master and forget about the Sith in the basement.”

\---

Galaar does go back to Master Jarroq, but he doesn’t forget about the Sith in the basement. He  _ can’t. _ She’s  _ aliit _ and that means  _ family _ and you don’t forget family.

His miralukan master clearly suspects that he’s been sneaking off to do  _ something, _ but can’t find any evidence of it, so he keeps Galaar on a shorter leash for several months. He can sneak away enough to ensure that the wards still recognize him, but not long enough to talk to  _ the _ Red General.

Master Jarroq takes his interest in the general in completely the wrong way. Or the right way, since he encourages Galaar’s researching. He gives lessons about the evils of the Sacking and how Sith like the Red General were the entire reason that the Jedi couldn’t remain neutral, even though that better followed their philosophy. There were also additional lessons about Revan, which were boring except for the snippets about the Mandalorian wars, which Master Jarroq couldn’t remove entirely without making Revan’s story meaningless.

In the end, it just teaches Galaar that the titles of Sith and Jedi don’t mean nearly as much as someone’s actions. Of course, most of the holos and articles about the Red General are about her war crimes and the horrors she enacted on the Republic, but Galaar is convinced he sees reluctance and pain in her eyes.

By the time he finally makes it back to see her, his hair is halfway down his back. He brings a datapad with holos of her in full Sith regalia at conferences gloating about the war crimes, but they’re not for accusations.

Galaar points to her intricately braided hair. “I like this. Can you do mine? It’s super long now.”

She eyes him for a rare moment of full attention before crooking her eyebrow. “Bring yourself into convenient choking range? I thought you wanted to live long enough to run away.”

“I have a  _ feeling  _ you won’t kill me. And I haven’t been wrong yet.” 

“I've lulled you into a false sense of security, but if you insist.” She makes an imperious beckoning gesture before settling herself on the floor of her cell next to the bars.

Galaar fearlessly settles down next to her and turns his back. The thought that he’s wrong and about to be murdered doesn’t seem to cross his mind. 

The Sith reaches through the bars and parts it into three sections. She works through the knots and tangles with her fingers and then taps him on the shoulder. “Bring your hands up. I’m going to teach you.”

For more than an hour, in the dead of night when Galaar should have been sleeping, he sits silently following the general’s quiet lessons. His arms ache and his head hurts from concentrating so hard on something he can’t see, but he doesn’t voice a single complaint. He barely says anything at all, afraid she’ll change her mind or just send him off to bother someone else like Master Jarroq does.

By the time she’s done with him, his hair is in a simple, only slightly lopsided, plait that hangs determinedly in front of his shoulder for some reason. The general pats him on the head and then he can hear her getting up and moving back up to her chair.

“Now, you’d best get back where you belong. But first, tell me why I didn’t simply do it for you.”

“Because if it was too nice Master Jarroq would know someone else did it.”

“Clever little bird. You may yet survive to adulthood.”

Galaar turns and beams at her. “I knew you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Not this time. Watch your six.”

\---

Two months later, Master Jarroq lifts skeptical eyebrows towards Galaar. “You want a set of Force cuffs.”

“To train with, yes,” the boy explains patiently. “I want to see if I can complete the obstacle course without the Force. Isn’t physical training just as important as…” Galaar makes sweeping gestures when he trails off.

“Both talents are part of you. It would be foolish to become over reliant on this form of training,” the Master lectures. “However, a limited dose wouldn’t hurt.”

Galaar restrains himself until the cuffs are in hand, the strict armory attendant only convinced by Master Jarroq’s personal codes, and he’s well away from the Temple. There  _ is _ an obstacle course and he  _ does  _ spend a lot of time on it, but it’s just a credible excuse to study the cuffs themselves out of sight. 

He reasons that the Red General’s restraints must be the same mechanism. As long as her Force is blocked off, escape is impossible; but the cage was designed with the assumption that she’ll always have them on. And the cuffs are a  _ thing, _ a thing that can fail. If he can just figure out how to turn them off… 

After days of fruitless wrestling, Galaar despairs of ever figuring it out. He has the electronic key for his training cuffs, but try as he might, he can’t figure out how to disable them without it. His last hope is that the child-sized one might have some additional security that’s absent on the Red General’s. He loosens the cuffs with their key and goes back to the armory.

“I need a larger pair.”

His story about training wouldn’t hold up to this, but the Knight on duty today doesn’t bat an eye. “Right. Well, that key should still work, so just hand over the cuffs and I’ll give you another set. Fewer forms for me to fill out that way.” 

“It  _ will _ ? Oh yeah, right, of course it will.” Galaar hastens to avoid admitting too much, but can’t wipe the grin off his face.  _ They all use the same key!  _

As he walks away with cuffs in hand, he hears the attendant muttering about younglings being too enthusiastic about training. 

That night, when Master Jarroq and the rest of the Temple sleeps, he makes his way down to the secret prison again. As usual, the Red General is wide awake. He wonders if she ever sleeps, or somehow knows he’s coming, despite the weeks and sometimes  _ months _ between his visits.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” he announces. 

She doesn’t look up from her datapad. “You’re full of strange fantasies, little bird.”

“I’m serious. I have the key the Jedi use for all of their Force cuffs. And I bet that includes yours.”

She flicks her wrist to scroll through whatever she’s reading. “That won’t get me out of the cell, let alone offworld.”

“The whole Temple’s asleep. And I can get us onto my Master’s ship. He doesn’t have any droids--nothing that’ll notice until we’re already in hyperspace,” Galaar says. 

“Nice try, but the Temple never  _ really _ sleeps. Someone will notice. Force Intuition.” She taps her bottom lip with two fingers.

“You can block that once we’re out of here. You’re a lot stronger than any night-watch Jedi Knight.” 

She continues to pay him no mind, something Galaar is all-too familiar with. “That’s a rather nice compliment.”

“Right. So all I have to do is unlock the cuffs and we can go.” Galaar doesn’t wait for her response before pressing the unlock mechanism on his key. 

Her hand shoots out and snatches the electronic key from his hands with the Force and she has them re-enabled and in place before he can blink. “You  _ idiot,  _ do you have any idea what you’ve done? Now  _ They _ know I’m alive! If They’d been watching, I’d be  _ dead _ right now!”

“They? Who’s  _ they _ ?” he asks, taken aback by the sudden passion. She seems to tower over him, like she’s grown three feet.

“Lord Hyal the Elder, you  _ dikut _ ,” she hisses in response, showing more emotion in the last minute than in the months he’s been visiting her combined.

“You weren’t just letting them keep you here. You were hiding from this… Hyal person?” Galaar snaps his fingers. “Wait. They’re dead! It was all over the HoloNet when I was looking  _ you  _ up.” 

The Red General rubs both of her temples and makes an exhausted sound. “At least I know you’re too stupid to be making that up, but they’re not so easily killed.”

“If you’d told me the entire situation, we could’ve left weeks ago! I don’t know  _ how  _ they died, but it’s true. Even the Imperial sites can’t pretend it didn’t happen, that’s when you know it’s true.” 

The general paces across the small cell a few times as she thinks, then she leans in to examine the Force lock on her cell. After a few minutes, she tosses the key back to Galaar. “You’re going to count to three, disable it, and then count to three again and re-engage it, understand?”

“I don’t get it,” Galaar says. He doesn’t know why she wants him to that, but at least he caught the key in the air and didn’t make a fool of himself. He looks between her and the switch.

“Shan changed the Force lock so that only she could deactivate it. I most likely  _ am _ more powerful than any Knight on night watch, but better not to fight them at all. And if you’re  _ wrong _ about the Elder, it might buy me a few hours.”

Galaar nods along with the explanation, though he ignores the last bit. He knows he’s right. “So you are gonna break the lock then be suppressed again so no one can Sense you.”

“Exactly.”

Galaar counts aloud and tries to keep his timing even, but watching the Red General use the Force is so exciting he can’t really focus. 

When the cuffs deactivate, she makes an intricate gesture in lightning-fast movements and then there’s a flash of purple light as she overpowers the locking spell. She ensures the cuffs are fastened on her wrists and then turns back into her cell. She feels along the bottom of the small table she’d been allowed and pulls out a scrap of  _ paper _ which she stuffs into her shirt before leaving.

Galaar quickly reactivates the cuffs. “You uh, got everything you need?” is the most he dares to directly ask about the paper. 

“Yes. Now run on ahead and get me a Jedi robe to wear.”

\---

Galaar looks around the shuttle with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure his mad plan would actually work, but it did. He and the Red  _ kriffing  _ General escaped from a closely guarded prison in the Jedi Temple itself, all thanks to his own ingenuity. He’s elated, but quickly realizes he didn’t think through  _ any  _ part of this plan following the initial escape. He knows he’s from a Mandalorian clan, but which one? Are they even going to it? 

“Uh… Where are we going?” 

“Nar Shaddaa. We have to get rid of this Defender. It’s too obviously a Jedi vessel. From there, I’ll send a message to one of my people. They’ll answer, even after this much time.”

“Your people. The clan that you were in?” he guesses. “What about me? I don’t even know what clan I was from or why they turned me over.” 

The general chuckles. “You have such a one-track mind, little bird. No, some of my Imperials. There’s no way to predict who would come if I sent Meshurok a message.”

“Oh… But don’t they think you’re dead?” 

“So does Meshurok,” she points out. “But I don’t have secret code phrases to signify I’m  _ me _ to the clan. Just one for if one of the  _ aliit _ comes back from being missing. They could send anyone.”

Galaar nods. “Okay. Imperials it is,” he says as if his opinion matters.

“You’re going to be sorely disappointed if it turns out you’re not from a Mandalorian clan,” she says, laughing.

He blinks. “What do you mean, if? I know I am!” 

“The galaxy’s a big place. It could just be a coincidence that Galaar is a Mandalorian name.”

“You think? But I knew some of the words… Wait, it  _ is? _ ”

“Didn’t you look it up?”

Galaar shakes his head.

“It means  _ hawk. _ That’s why I call you little bird. As for the rest of the the  _ mando’a _ you know, you could have picked it up from the HoloNet or other reading. It doesn’t matter. I’m adopting you. No other clans will abide Forcers. They can’t; it’s just not safe.”

Galaar’s eyes go wide at the idea that she  _ wants _ him, but he tries to hide it. “It sounds like I don’t really get to decide. Okay. I’ll go for that.” 

“You're a child; of course you don't get to decide.”

“Well, joining a clan is what I wanted anyway. Why do you think I set you loose?” 

“Uh huh,” is the only response from the general as she continues to pilot the ship. 

\---

Galaar blinks around at the Imperial ship that the Red General’s people came to fetch them on. He’d never seen anything so large and impressive-looking. It’s not the clan home he craves, but it feels closer than ever now that he’s out of the spartan Jedi Temple. Even the stiff-backed Imperial handing over a squalling toddler can’t distract him too much. 

“What’s it going to be like? Life in the clan, I mean,” Galaar asks, staring up at her.

She shoves the child into his arms by way of answer. “He’s made a mess. Go change him.  _ That’s  _ what it’s going to be like.”

“I guess I was asking for it,” he grumbles as he goes to attend to the diaper. Not what he’d been hoping for, but he knows there would be children everywhere from his research. He sneaks back into the lounge where the general is speaking with her friend, the brown-haired Imperial that handed her toddler to begin with. 

“He hasn’t come by with Tarash in a while - he’s been leading some hunts to train the new warriors, so I think that would be the best way,” her friend says.

“That’s probably for the best. There’s really no way to get him and Tarash away from the clan, otherwise.”

_ Who’s this  _ he _? And Tarash?  _ Galaar can’t remember her ever talking about specifics of her clan life, so he keeps listening with some interest. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t believe I’m  _ me _ ,” the general says. “It’s a valid concern. Especially after so long and with the Elder’s rumored ‘end.’”

“He isn’t Sensitive, but surely he’d  _ know _ .”

“We can’t just assume that, Ivan.”

“Who else would she be?” Galaar mutters to himself. He knows the Force can do all sorts of tricks, but surely not something drastic enough to create a whole copy of a person. 

“You’re not giving him enough credit, My Lord.”

“I should call Oct. He can confirm it well enough.”

The Imperial makes a disgusted sound. “ _ Must _ you? He annoys everyone.”

“He could  _ torture _ everyone. You’re all rather privileged if being  _ annoyed _ is the most you suffer from a Sith of his power.”

Galaar searches his memory, but can’t recall any reports of the Red General’s Sith friends… if Sith even have them.  _ Maybe I’ll find out directly who this Oct is.  _

“Regardless, it’s unnecessary. There’s no doubt you’re you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were making excuses.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I’m not going to play this game with you, Tasha. It’s your life to do with as you will, but he’s a friend of mine and I have to look into his interests as well, since you’re ‘dead.’ I already stole enough time from him on your orders.”

Galaar desperately wants to know what’s going on, but is also afraid that the Red General--Tasha?--will atomize him if she knows he’s eavesdropping. He hunches down and holds his breath. 

“I was locked in a cage for two years, I’d appreciate some sympathy.”

“Should I hold you hand, My Lord?”

The general makes a loud, annoyed sound Galaar’s familiar with. “Galaar! Bring me the boy!”

He winces and rushes back for the kid, then tries to act like he didn’t run two ways when he walks into the lounge. “Uh, yeah, here he is. I changed it.” 

The little boy chatters happily, if nonsensically, at the general as she takes him from Galaar. She removes the toy from his hands and places it on the coffee table. Then she turns the small child towards his father and he proceeds to projectile vomit all over the man.

Galaar can’t stifle his laughter, even though he knows the Imperial is a person of importance. “How’d you know he’d do that?” 

“He’s had an upset stomach since we arrived,” the general says as she wipes the child’s mouth and gives him the toy back. She sets him on the floor and looks back at her man while he accepts a towel from a droid. “I take it I’ve made my feelings clear, Ivan.”

“You’re a cruel woman. Regardless, I’m calling him in with your son and I won’t be obliging your paranoia.”

“Who’s  _ him _ ?” Galaar pipes up. Now that she’s annoyed with her friend and not him, it seems safe to ask. 

“Your new father,” she says, leaning back into the couch with what looks like a pout on her face. “He’s the leader of Meshurok now, which makes him a little difficult to get alone.”

“My new father? You mean your… husband?” 

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“Wow. The HoloNet didn’t say anything about the Red General doing  _ that _ .”

“I see you adopted a  _ fan _ , My Lord.”

“Oh hush.” The general says. “Why would I divulge my private business to the HoloNet?”

Galaar shakes his head. “Right, no, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think Sith and Mandalorians, well, you know.” 

“How did you think I ended up as a Mandalorian?”

“Oh. Right. That makes sense.” 

“You’ll meet him soon enough. And then the real training will begin.”

Galaar grins. “I can’t wait!” 

\---

Much to his frustration, and loud complaints, Galaar doesn’t get to meet his new  _ alor _ right away. (The general had told him the word, probably to mollify him.) Her friend, Ivan, instead drags him and his own son around Dromund Kaas for the day and only brings him back to his new family once they’ve had several hours to themselves. (“Don’t I count? I’m family now! She said!”)

But finally,  _ finally _ Ivan drops him off at the spaceport so he can go  _ home _ . For the first time he can remember.

Galaar marches into the appropriate hangar, but hesitates as he stares at the big ship. Joining a Mandalorian clan is everything he’s wanted his entire life. But once he commits to it, there’s no turning back.  _ Am I sure, really sure, that this is what I want? _

He barely knows the Red General as a person--his mind still balks at even using her proper name--and hasn’t even met this  _ alor  _ who will become his adoptive father.  

His thoughts are completely derailed when the airlock opens and out comes a black-haired man in full  _ beskar. _ “There you are, Gal. Come on. It's time to go home.”

“Are you the  _ alor _ ?” Galaar manages after several seconds of just staring in awe. 

“That's  _ buir  _ to you,  _ ad. _ Now, come on.”

“Um. Okay.” He quickly falls in, still intimidated but finding something relaxing about just being told what to do. He follows his adoptive father into the ship. It’s a rusty, patched-together thing, but the chairs look cozy and it feels… welcoming, somehow.

“Are you hungry? Ivan never eats enough.”

“I can always eat more,” Galaar says quickly, eager to take food if it’s offered. He knows that means something to Mandalorians. Something  _ big. _

The man sits Galaar down and comes back a moment later with a few, warm meat buns. “Asha’s reading Tarash a bedtime story, but those never work, so we’ll be on our own for a while.” As he speaks, the ship’s engines spin up and it prepares to take off.

Galaar wolfs down a couple of the buns before he asks one of the several questions racing through his mind. “So you were with the Red -- um -- with her, but you thought she died? But the Jedi captured her instead? This must be a weird day for you.” 

The Mandalorian grins like a madman and ruffles the hair on the top of Galaar’s head, messing up his braid. “It’s the best day. I have my partner again and a new son.”

“Well, I can see why you’re happy about her, but you don’t even know  _ me _ .” 

The man shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re family now. What came before is irrelevant.”

Galaar nods. “I read that.”

“I’m the  _ alor, _ but don’t think that’ll get you any special privileges. You’re still gonna be in the children’s barracks with everyone else.”

He nods again. “I read about it. It’s not like you’re a king and your kids are princes.” 

The man snorts and then ruffles Galaar’s hair, again. He’s gotten pretty good at braiding by this point, but he’s still sour his work is being messed up. “Asha mentioned you had some weird ideas about Mandalorians.”

“Er, well… I mean, I only know what I’ve been able to read on the HoloNet. The Jedi didn’t really have any Mandalorians around to talk to.” 

“Well you were  _ really _ sure you wanted to be one of us.”

Galaar bites his lip, suddenly afraid that if he says the wrong thing they’ll send him back. “I never felt like I belonged as a Jedi. I remembered a little about the clan… some of the language, enough to know I’d been given up because of my Force. And then everything I could read sounded great. An entire clan of brothers and sisters. Family.” 

“You have to keep in mind that it’s not safe for us to keep Forcers. The Empire will try to kill us all if they find out. And other clans might sell us out because of Demagol’s memory.”

“I know, they didn’t have a choice. I was surprised when the--when I found out she’d been  _ in  _ a clan.” 

“Why don’t you call her mum? That’d be less confusing.”

“Right. Mum.” The word feels strange in Galaar’s mouth, but he supposes he’ll need to get used to it quickly. 

“Or Asha or Fox or whatever, really. You just seem like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I only thought about getting her off Tython, not what would happen afterwards…” 

“Just thought you’d bully a big scary Sith General into taking you to a random Mandalorian clan?”

Galaar flushes. “I wanted to free her. I didn’t think much about the aftermath.” 

“My kind of kid,” he says with a chuckle. “So what are you good at?”

“Well… I was a lot better at using the Force to enhance physical attributes than the mental stuff. Except for the Empathy, but that’s not much use in a fight.” He shrugs. “As far as what’s applicable to being a Mandalorian? I don’t know. They never taught us to hunt or wear armor or make weapons or that sort of thing.” 

“Empathy, huh? What’s that like?”

Galaar shakes his head. “It’s really  _ weird _ . You can just tell what someone else is feeling. Like, I know you’re happy right now but I also  _ know  _ you’re happy. And if you’re not careful, you start to get influenced by what they’re feeling.”

“Sounds tricky. You’re lucky Asha wasn’t actually trying to fool your Senses. I’m sure she could.”

“Yeah… If she was as evil as the Jedi  _ said  _ she was, I’d probably be dead. Or worse.” 

“Don’t worry, Oct will set you straight. You won’t like it, but that’s training.”

“I thought he was a Sith lord. Does he… train your Force-sensitive kids?” 

“That’s right. He’s rather surly, in his way, but effective.”

Galaar nods. “If you’re going to keep them, I guess it makes sense that they need a teacher. Everyone says untrained Force-users are dangerous. And easier to notice.” 

“Very dangerous. If your parents were  _ mando’ade _ you shouldn’t be upset that they sent you away. They were doing it to protect you and the clans.”

“I know I  _ shouldn’t _ be, but...” Galaar bites his lip and looks away from the piercing green eyes.

“You have a family now and we’re never going to send you away.”

“Thanks,” Galaar mutters, not trusting himself to say anything else without crying.

“Get used to it, kid. You’re stuck with us, now.”

\---

Mandalorian life is like being caught in a whirlwind. There  _ is _ a lot of baby-changing because his Empathy makes him particularly good at settling the younger kids down, but he also learns how to do all of the other menial tasks around the camp, like fixing broken furniture and cleaning up the kitchen after meals.

Every two weeks he and a half-mirialan girl, Kivia, go off to a cabin just outside of the camp for Force training with Lord Aucht. The Sith is confusing, to say the least. Though not an Empath himself, he projects  _ terror _ in a hundred subtle ways, from how he affects the lighting around him to the tenor of his voice and even his particular word choice is designed to instill fear. But at the same time, he’s extremely gentle with Galaar and Kivia, even going so far as to heal the slightest bruises from combat training and forcing snacks on them at regular intervals in practice.

Two months into life with Meshurok, just when he’s gotten comfortable calling Kennex  _ buir, _ Galaar meets his blood-father, ironically named Taldin. Taldin is prematurely grey and the  _ alor _ of Clan Cerar. Taldin’s heart is an open wound of pain and regret that he sent Galaar away, but it doesn’t really matter because he doesn’t  _ want _ Galaar. It’s a contrast that bites at Galaar’s heart and soul because of how obviously Kennex feared Taldin trying to take Galaar away. He’d half-expected there to be a fist-fight between the  _ alor’e _ over who got to keep him with how his adoptive father had been feeling.

He tries to hide his broken-hearted disappointment from Kennex, but he’s pretty sure the man knows with how he’s whisked off on an impromptu lesson on tracking animals in a forest, just the two of them.

Tarash, Kennex and the general’s blood-son, takes to his new status as younger brother without blinking. The younger boy speaks a jumble of  _ mando’a _ and Basic that’s mostly  _ mando’a, _ but knows calling Galaar ‘brother’ in Basic will earn him a snack or something pulled off a high shelf. The little boy calls both of his parents  _ buir _ without hesitation and doesn’t seem to notice, or at least doesn’t care about, any confusion it causes.

Galaar still isn’t sold on calling  _ the _ Red General anything other than  _ ma’am _ or  _ my lord _ so he usually just avoids calling her anything. ( _ Buir _ notices and messes up his braid every time.)

He hadn’t been able to properly parse the general’s emotions when she was in Force cuffs and locked in a cell and  _ now _ she may as well not have any, for all his Empathy tells him. Her Force shielding is perfect, but even with her warm-looking smiles and kind words, Galaar still balks when Tarash climbs into her lap or pulls the tie out of her hair or steals food from her plate.

He’s been a Mandalorian for six months when Meshurok’s doctor, Catra, assures him that no, he’s not dying, yes, he will be fine, and yes he just needs to sleep it off, now go see his parents because she won’t have him spreading the cold to the rest of the children in the barracks.

_ Buir _ is off-world negotiating a contract, which means the general is alone in their tent. Galaar heads in to share his abject misery. 

“I think I’m dying.” 

The general looks up from where she's sitting on the couch reading from a datapad. “Have you seen Catra?”

“I just came from her. She says I’m  _ not  _ dying, but I feel awful,” Galaar complains. 

“Ah, definitely dying, then.” She stands and points to the couch. “Lay down.”

He hesitates before climbing onto the couch. Doubtless she just wants him to stop complaining and get out of sight. He bites back a sigh, which turns into a painful cough when she leaves. 

However, just as he's settled in to feeling miserable, she returns with a soft, blue blanket that's as heavy as it is warm. She tucks it around him and then goes back to where she had been sitting, placing his head, runny nose and all, in her lap. Then she goes back to reading, as if this is completely normal. 

Galaar blinks, not really processing what just happened. “Uh…” 

She rubs his back through another coughing fit, but otherwise seems to pay him no mind. After a few minutes a hulking war droid awkwardly makes its way inside the tent and sets a delicate tea service on the table in front of the general. After it leaves, she says, “There’s some hot lemsip, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Oh… Yes… That’d be nice.” He blinks again. “Is this real?” 

“Never been sick before?” She asks absentmindedly as she pours a little of the hot drink in a cup with a chubby cartoon fox on it. The general presses it into his hands and holds him up so he doesn’t choke when he tries to drink it.

“Not really. I didn’t think Jedi  _ got  _ sick. Though--” He coughs miserably. “I’m not fully trained like they were.” 

“Everyone gets sick, little bird.”

“I’m sure it’s hanging around all of the kids. They’re  _ always  _ sniffling.” 

“You’ll survive. Just don’t tell Kennex I gave you his favorite blanket.”

The significance of that sentence settles over Galaar. It’s twice as heavy and a hundred times more comforting than the blanket. He pulls it tightly around his neck and shifts and moves on the couch and over the general’s lap until he’s comfortable.

When he stops moving, she pulls the loose tie out of his hair and proceeds to braid it with one hand and the Force.

“Thanks… mum.”

“Just feel better.”

Galaar bites his lip and then decides to test his luck. “I  _ promise _ I won’t tell  _ buir _ about the blanket.” He makes the allusion to blackmail as obvious as he can and then waits with bated breath.

She continues with his braid for a moment before saying, “Don’t make me melt your brain, little bird.”

Galaar presses his wet eyes into the blanket and lets himself be lulled to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the epilogue. Yes, this is the same Galaar from Honor and Duty. Remember that this entire story takes place roughly ten years later than The Fox and the Hound, so at the time of the Mandalorian convention where Taldin meets Hound for the first time, Hound didn't reveal that Meshurok would be accepting of Forcers.
> 
> (And let's face it, Taldin probably only spilled his guts because he wanted to bang Carina)
> 
> This lead to Taldin being far more paranoid about Galaar's Sensitivity and then panicked at the first signs.
> 
> In addition to Someone's Going To Die Horribly (Fox backstory), I have written a missing scene from Fox & Hound that will be posted up after Morning Comes (Fox backstory).


End file.
